


The Glory Days

by Laerkstrein



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Asgard, Brotherhood, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Muspelheim, Rivalry, Sibling Rivalry, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 50,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laerkstrein/pseuds/Laerkstrein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the war that would come to tear them apart, the Sons of Odin were more than friends, than brothers. They were inseparable. </p><p>Set 20 years prior to <i>Thor</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Overture

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://niger-ut-niveus.livejournal.com/?skip=20&tag=%23multi%3A%20the%20glory%20days) on my LJ comm on 01.06.13, and concluded on 02.07.13.

The table rattled, jarring the words on the page and bringing him to look up, scowl at them though they clearly paid him no mind. The two laughing men sat across from one another, their right hands clasped together while they continued to eat and drink, Volstagg with the nearly bare bone of a chicken leg clenched in his left fist as it began to splinter, and Thor with a half-full goblet of ale that steadily began dripping down the side as he shook. Loki said nothing, failed to remember that he hadn't finished the chapter before absent mindedly turning the page as he set about trying to read again. His head began to spin as his eyes tore the ink from the sweet-smelling pages, only to stop halfway when the cask of ale tipped over, began to sink into the cover of the book. He had half a mind to seize a napkin, try to save the poor book before it could be damaged further, but decided not to, slamming a fist on the table and pushing the soaked tome to the floor with a wet sound.  
  
"Have you no decency?!" he demanded, taking hold of an apple and tossing it at Thor. It struck his brother in the side of the head. Loki motioned to the mess on the table, the food that they had knocked to the floor in their ridiculous contest of strength, and plucked the book from the floor, thrusting it at Thor as it dripped. "Look what you've done!"  
  
The elder prince turned then, having decided that his game no longer mattered, staring at Loki as though he had just stolen away one of his toys. It was quite the other way around.   
  
Thor shrugged, golden hair bouncing around his face, gaze shallow and easily devoid of understanding. "You can fix it," he said simply, motioning with a hand. "You've always been talented with magic, Brother. It should prove to be no difficult task."  
  
From the opposite side of the room, Fandral chuckled. "You might as well just say what we're all thinking, Thor," he quipped, giving Loki an amused glance. "He's always been talented with  _woman's craft._ "  
  
The words made the trickster prince want to slap him, though he knew it would do no good. So far as brute strength went, the lot of them had always been far and above him, increasingly proficient in the use of blades and hammers and fists. Striking the snickering blond would earn him no more than an instant worth of satisfaction before he found himself face down on the cold floor. No, Loki would not give them yet another arrow to add to their quiver of insults.   
  
A quiet whine came from Fandral as the Lady Sif sent him to the floor, the heel of her boot having taken his feet out from beneath him.   
  
" _Woman's craft?_  You had best be careful of your words, Fandral," she warned, staring down at him with eagle's eyes. "Remember that a woman is among the best of you foolish fellows." She turned to Loki then, a thin smile on her face. "There is no such thing as woman's craft. Some of the greatest sorcerers in the history of Asgard have been men."  
  
His anger towards Thor was forgotten then, and he looked back to the book, the pages sticking together and stained. Loki laid it upon the table, glanced the now empty cask and frowned, raised a hand and pointed to the tome, concentration etched upon his face as that unnamed feeling swept through him. The pages began to smooth themselves, fly from one cover to the other as the fluid pooled into a ball in the air. Loki's eyes moved back to the cask, tracing an arc in the air and sending the ale back into the container, leaving it to rock gently back and forth before it settled back onto the table.   
  
Thor smiled, pushed himself from his seat to clap Loki on the shoulder.   
  
"See?" he said with a chuckle. "I told you."  
  
The trickster prince said nothing for a moment, shut the book and ran his hand across the cover, as if he couldn't believe himself that he'd saved it from the otherwise irreparable damage. He had done it times before, had practiced for years and finally come to master spells throughout the spectrum, ranging from producing goldfish in the garden pools to repairing the thin bones of his own broken fingers. But the magic, the skill he so clearly possessed, hadn't been the point of his outburst.   
  
He pushed the book against Thor's chest, looking at his brother with a venom in his eyes.  
  
"That isn't the point." Thor looked dumbfounded. "You're inconsiderate, Thor. You care only for your own fun and leave everything else in the dust. If you have even a hope of ascending to Father's throne, then you had best learn to give a damn."  
  
The thunderer looked appalled at his words, but Loki didn't care. He turned away, left Thor to stand in shock as he snatched the tome out of his hands. Loki loved his brother dearly, had sworn as a child to do everything and anything to protect him the way Thor had done for him. But, even so, there were things about Thor that irked him to no end, made him wish that clever words and complicated spells could do something about his wretched temper, his lack of consideration, and that obsession for war and competition.   
  
Holding the book in his hands, Loki had a mind to tell Thor that it was one of many in their mother's massive collection. Perhaps that would instill a bit of guilt into him.   
  
"You are right," Thor said from behind him. "I'm sorry." Loki bit his tongue as Thor grabbed him by the arm. "What can I do to make it up to you, Brother?"  
  
"For now, just let me read."  
  
Thor let go, but his eyes seemed to light up, mouth bearing a smile. Loki stepped back, eyes wide. His brother had another fool idea in that head of his.   
  
"Tomorrow," Thor said, turning to their friends, "we will depart at dawn for the hunt."  
  
Volstagg coughed and began choking on a grape. Hogun stepped up beside him and slapped the bearded man on the back until he started breathing again. "Tomorrow?!" the Valiant repeated, looking shocked. "Are you mad, Thor? How are we to be prepared by dawn?"  
  
Thor shrugged as though it were obvious. "Prepare tonight."  
  
Loki rolled his eyes, pushed his brother lightly to get his attention. "Tomorrow is too soon," he said, leaving no room for argument in his tone. "You can't just yank the horses from the stables, load them up and expect all to go well."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
The trickster prince dropped the book on the table and glared. "Do you not remember the last time you dragged us all out to the mountain on a whim? We were left for three days in the rain until Father came and found us." Thor seemed to remember, but said nothing. "And all because you failed to plan, and thought it would be great fun to jump your horse over that old rock face."  
  
"You could have repaired his leg," his brother said matter-of-factly. "We'd have been just fine then."  
  
Loki almost reached out and slapped him. "I've told you a thousand times that I can't yet heal the wounds of others. Otherwise, I'd have taken care of that obvious dent in your head."   
  
Fandral laughed aloud.   
  
Thor sighed, looked disappointed as he glanced to the others. They all had the same expression.   
  
"We need more than just a day to prepare," Loki said. "Spring is almost done. There remain four days before the start of Summer, and then we'll go." He touched Thor's arm. "But you can't expect us to just leave like that."  
  
The thunderer nodded, smiled. "Four days," he repeated, looking to the others, "and then we set off on yet another of our great adventures." The warriors nodded their agreement, and Thor turned back to him. "I wager that, by the time you wake on the morning of departure, I will have my horse saddled and ready to ride."   
  
Loki groaned, snatching the book off the table as Thor laughed and hurried out of the room. The trickster trailed after him.   
  
"Not everything is a competition, Thor!"


	2. Maybe I Will, Maybe I Won't

He grinned, stepped back to admire his handiwork, and immediately frowned again. For nearly an hour now, Thor had been busy at work with piecing his pack together, stuffing various supplies into his bedroll in hopes of maintaining that wager made with Loki. Were he to have everything ready beforehand, there would be no way for him to lose. He could arise early on the first morn of Summer, run out to the stables and prepare his horse for their journey. And, though his brother had shown no desire to go along with the bet, that was a part of the game as well. Loki was a talented liar, and he did not like to lose.   
  
Hands tugged at the strings that bound the bedroll, the thing popping open upon his mattress and sending his pouch and medicines skittering across the floor. The tent, on the other hand, stayed still. Thor chased after them, catching one of the jars before it split open, flinching as another made a loud sound, stayed in one piece and ended up rolling towards the door. His eyes followed it, moving up as the great barrier opened, his mother's gown appearing as she bent over to scoop up the glass container.   
  
Thor looked to her and smiled.   
  
"It's rather early to be packing, don't you think?" The prince sighed and got to his feet, accepting the jar as she crossed the room. Of course, Loki would have gone and told her of their plans. "Don't you think that's cheating?"  
  
He laughed, retrieving the rest of the materials from across the room and tried again to stuff them into the tent and bedroll. "Loki cheats, Mother," Thor replied. "I plan ahead."  
  
Frigga appeared beside him, brushed his hand away and nodded as she began to pack it for him, rolling the medicines and pouch inside the tent. Thor made a face. He'd seen her pack his things a hundred times, and still couldn't seem to manage it on his own.   
  
"I see," she said, lifting the pack and settling it in his arms. It was bound tightly with the leather cords, no bigger than the saddle of Thor's horse. "Smallest things first, then the tent and the bedroll."  
  
He nodded. "Of course."  
  
The supplies were left on his bed then, his mother's hand slipping into his as they walked out of the room and down the warm hallways. The two of them wound through the gardens, and Frigga stopped for a time to watch the magicked fish swim in the ponds, take a small bucket and spread water across several of her plants. Thor sat on the edge of the fountain, listened as the water shifted through the opening in the decorated marble, dipped a hand into the pool and watched as the fish began nibbling on the ends of his fingers. When animals like this appeared, so real that they might have been but a dream, it was a sure sign that his brother had been about.   
  
The air was fresh, warm enough to lift the scent of the flowers through the garden, the breeze strong enough to carry that of the distant pines on the mountain to waft about the palace. Thor smiled, for he loved that smell. He loved the sound of twigs cracking beneath his boots, the atmosphere of the mountain air as it hovered around him, filled him with all the sights and sounds of nature. Perhaps that was why the prince was so eager to leave, to get away from the bustling life of the the palace, of the city.   
  
Thor smiled. He couldn't wait to get away.   
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
"Aren't you the slightest bit worried?"  
  
The book snapped shut, the sentence cut off as Loki looked up again, laid it flat on the library table. Fandral had a bad habit of nagging him at the worst of times, and though it hadn't happened in quite a while, it still wasn't welcome. He closed his eyes, breathed through his nose and waited, hoped that the warrior would take the hint and go the hell away. But, even after the passing of ten minutes, he still stood behind the chair, and Loki turned on him.   
  
"About what?" he replied, an edge to his voice. Loki fought back the urge to yell at him.   
  
The warrior made a face, as though he expected Loki to know exactly what he was talking about, and began playing at tracing the letters embossed into the front of the book. The prince scowled and slapped his hand away. It seemed Fandral was trying to bug him.   
  
"Thor," came the reply, and the blond man moved to finger the spines of the books on the shelves, as though he were actually intelligent enough to understand half of the material within. "And his bet. Do you really think you can beat him? You haven't even started packing yet."  
  
Loki sighed, leaned forward in the chair and shook his head. He didn't need to plan ahead, though it was certain that his brother would. Thor could easily spend the next four days preparing himself, waking before the break of dawn and the like, and Loki would still win. He was the God of Mischief, the trickster prince. Games were his forte, and, thus far, no one had been able to beat him at a game which Loki had claimed as his own. This pointless race to have their belongings packed and ready for departure would be no different. He didn't even need to try.   
  
Fandral seemed to have heard the thought, his mouth opening in that knowing "Oh" of which he was so fond. The warrior smiled, seemed as though he were about to skip across the library like it were a field of pretty daisies.   
  
"You're going to cheat," he whispered, snatching Loki's book and carrying it out of reach. The prince made no move to chase after him. "You always cheat; that's how you win!" Fandral made a mocking sound, that of disappointment. "Shameless."  
  
"If you like," the trickster grinned, "I could take the liberty of changing that face of yours into something that suits your big mouth." The warrior dropped the book and stared. "A toad, perhaps?"  
  
The man's mouth opened as though he were about to vomit and turned away, obviously appalled at the thought. Loki laughed and stood, crossed the room a ways to retrieve his book, and gave Fandral a good kick in the ass with a boot. The warrior tumbled forward with a whimper, rolled about on the carpet for a time with his hands pressed to his face, as though he feared that Loki would go through with his suggestion.  
  
"Now, if you don't mind," the trickster grimaced, returning to his chair, "I'd like to finish my book. And I suggest you leave before I take back my good graces, and change my mind."  
  
Fandral had never been seen running so fast.


	3. Rain

It came down hard, having soaked through her clothes nearly an hour earlier, but still she kept at it. The tree was littered with holes, the knives held tightly in her hands as Sif pulled her arm back and let one of them fly. She swore under her breath, having missed the mark completely, sending the blade soaring off into the wet foliage. Planting the others with the blades down in the dirt, she wiped sweat and rain off her forehead and went after it. She gave one of the bushes a kick with a boot, thinking to herself that it couldn't have gone far. She'd seen it go just past the tree, through the bushes. It must have been buried in the dirt somewhere nearby.   
  
Even through the pour of the rain, Sif flinched, a sound from behind having caught her by surprise. She turned, reaching for the knife that hung at her hip and drew it, eyes wide as a doe stepped through the trees, staring at her a moment before speeding off on its thin legs. Sif sighed, leaned back and allowed herself to fall into the mud. Being forced to stand on her toes all the time, there was never a moment when she was not on guard. And, at times, it became tiring.   
  
The warrior woman made a face, sat up on her haunches and reached back behind her. In the wet dirt where she had let herself fall was the blade, and it had seen fit to stick her in the backside. Sif muttered to herself, not knowing how she could have missed seeing it. She tromped back through the grime and found her horse again, having settled itself beneath the wide branches of a pine tree. Sif gathered up what little she had brought along and loaded it onto the animal's back, taking the reins and leading it through the woods, gaze turning to the wide lake that sat along the east side of the palace.   
  
As children, they would go swimming when it rained, try to jump off the balcony overlooking the water and end up being caught by servants and even the queen. There was a hill out by the fields and stables where they'd run, fall down and make a wet slide of grass that would drop them into the lake, call up to the others and see if they could come down faster. They would play on teams, take a ball and see how long they could keep it off the surface of the water, see who could balance it on the tip of a finger or hold their breath the longest. It had been their play place, and they had not used it in quite some time.   
  
Sif's boots sank into the soft earth of the main trail and kept walking, remembering all the times they'd kicked rocks all the way to the palace steps, tried to see who could send theirs furthest. Of all their games, she had been the best at that, the best at climbing to the top of the trees and jumping to the adjacent one. Volstagg had, at one point, dared to challenge her, managed to get to the treetop first and jumped, missing the branch by a wide margin and coming to strike the ground and break his elbow. She was still ashamed, but Sif had secretly laughed once the others had gone.   
  
"You'll catch cold," came a voice, and she smiled, turned to see Thor walking alongside her, his hand on the horse's muzzle. He carried a small pack with him, reached inside and offered up a towel. "You should dry off."  
  
Sif laughed aloud, shaking her head. "It's already soaked through," she said. "Cloth will retain much more water than my hair will, you know."  
  
Thor gave her a blank look, as though he hadn't thought to consider that. They walked a ways, mud sticking to their boots and being left behind as the road turned to stone beneath their feet. Thunder began to rage, and Sif had a mind to tell him that he might want to do something with that, try to quiet his mind. It seemed that the storms were more violent when Thor was eager or angry. And, as she could see by the way he looked back at the mountain, he was more than just impatient.   
  
"You'll last," she said, following the winding pathway that would take them to the stables. "Two days have already passed us by now. I think you can manage two more."  
  
He made a face, as though time was not moving quickly enough, and Sif wanted to tell him that, if he wasn't careful, life would pass him by, make changes that he wouldn't be pleased with. But she held her tongue and said nothing, simply smiled at his obvious discontentment.   
  
"Do you think I'll win?"  
  
The question caught Sif by surprise and she stopped, dropped the reins and turned to face him fully. "What?"  
  
Wet hair stuck to his forehead as Thor's blue eyes narrowed slightly. He bit the inside of his cheek and pushed a heavy breath out his nose. "Do you think it was wise to make a wager with Loki?"  
  
Sif nearly laughed in his face, but clapped a hand over her mouth. If they had learned one thing about Loki over the years, it was that his revenge was foul, and that he'd do anything to win a bet. Particularly with Thor. There had been one instance not three years back on Hogun's birthday where they had surprised the Grim with a dinner. Thor had set to challenging his brother to drinking a pitcher of ale amid the festivities, to which Loki had, surprisingly, complied. Sif had seen the lie on his lips, the spell on his silver tongue as he had quietly bewitched Thor's pitcher, forced the elder prince to drink from a container that never emptied. In the end, the thunderer had become violently ill and vomited across the floor from intoxication.   
  
She had hoped that her friend would have learned from such an event.   
  
The warrior said nothing, took the reins in her hand again and started walking. There was a slight incline that led up to the stables, the grass sticking to their boots as she handed the horse off to the stable boy, reached into her pouch and tossed him a bit of candy and leaving a smile on his face.   
  
Thor took her by the arm then, led her over to the side of the stable and shook her.   
  
"Do you think me foolish, Sif? Have I made a mistake?"  
  
The look of urgency on his face was laughable, the knowledge that he hadn't thought things through suddenly dawning upon him. Sif smiled and touched his hand.   
  
"Yes, you are foolish," she said with a smile. "And you've made a terrible mistake that will, undoubtedly, come back to haunt you. But you'll have fun with it. You always do."


	4. Child's Play

The leaves hid him, high up in the the tree and crouched on a branch, one hand steadying himself against the trunk while the other moved, send the plate in Volstagg's hand flying well out of reach. Loki snickered as the bearded man began to shout, running about to chase his meal as quickly as he could, swearing and making threats that he would carry out as soon as he got his hands about the prince's throat. But Loki didn't care. He knew better than to believe that the Valiant would have the energy to chase after him once his little game was through. When all was said and done, the warrior would sit himself down to eat, cram the meal down his gullet and sit back in the sun for a nap. Loki would not be harmed.   
  
He climbed higher, still holding the plate out of the man's reach, sending him running down the garden steps and into the field, watched as Volstagg's hands appeared among the low-hanging branches of the apple trees as he jumped. The prince snickered as the warrior's breathing grew labored, the plate hovering back up and around to the pine tree in which he had perched, watching as Volstagg sighed, came to fall on the soft grass below. Satisfied with the chase, Loki lowered his hand, sending the plate to the ground beside the man who, having looked up, spotted him and continued breathing threats.   
  
"No need to be nasty," he chided, dropping out of the tree. "It was only a bit of fun, you know."  
  
Volstagg said nothing and kept eyeing him, managing to pull himself up to lean against the tree trunk, snatching the plate away as though Loki would take it again.   
  
Anyone else would have been horribly offended, bothered by the fact that the others couldn't understand the joke. But Loki took pride in watching them seethe, knowing that he could do just as he liked to any of them without real consequence. They may have been stronger than the trickster physically, but so far as speed and magic went, none could match him. His father had told Loki himself. And Odin never lied.   
  
"Don't be that way," Loki said, crouching beside the winded man. Volstagg glared, clapped a hand around the drumstick protectively. "If I really wanted to, I'd just take it." The prince gave him a playful slap across the face. "And you, old boy, would be unable to do a thing about it."  
  
The warrior looked away, eyes locked upon the steps that lead up to the palace. Loki turned, somewhat surprised to see his father standing there with an amused smile on his face. He wondered how much the Allfather had seen, if he was truly entertained by Loki's antics, or if it was one of those knowing smirks, if he were waiting for something to happen. Volstagg grunted then, gave Loki a shove and laughed as he lay sprawled in the grass, taking to his feet and hurrying off as though he thought the prince would come after him again. Sitting up, Loki had mind to, but didn't bother knowing that Odin would easily intercept him as he walked down the stairs.   
  
The old man looked at him with his good eye, looking rather brilliant against the backdrop of misty mountains and cloudy skies.   
  
"It would seem that your tricks aren't well received."  
  
Loki shrugged, knotting his hands in the grass and yanking up the green blades, letting them fall as though they were a rain of confetti. That wasn't exactly news to the trickster. His jokes had never gone over well with many, unless it were Thor, and he'd long since grown tired of struggling for acceptance even in this group shared with his brother; had determined that it consumed far less energy for him to not give a damn and to enjoy his own games. Better than trying to drag a bunch of fun-sucking fools into it with him.   
  
"Is that meant to trouble me?" Loki replied, falling onto his back and staring up at the sky. It was better when it rained, he thought. Easier to spend time outdoors or lounge around in bed for a couple extra hours each morning rather than to wander about in the hot pockets of air that were the warm seasons of Asgard. If it were up to Loki, it would be Autumn and Winter all year long. "It's been some time since I cared for what they think of me."  
  
The gray sky stared back through the tree branches and growled, as if threatening to drop a tub of chilled water on him at that very instant. Odin appeared above him, staring down as though he expected them to have a quality conversation. Loki made a face and rolled over.   
  
His father was like to ask about their bet, to say something about the childishness of it all, that he and Thor ought to act their age, spend their time on better things like courting any one of the young women of quality in the kingdom the way their mother always insisted. And, to that, Loki would reply that of all the giggling girls, very few of them gave a damn about anything other than pretty little trinkets, gold fastenings and trim on their gowns, and being hailed as the next possible queen or Asgard. In other words, fame. As such, he'd decided, quite some time ago, that it was best to treat them as little more than objects of rather limited affection. He knew Odin wouldn't like that.  
  
"You've plans to ride tomorrow," the Allfather said, and leaned against the trunk of the tree. "Have you an idea as to what you'll bring home?"  
  
"Whatever we find, I suppose." Loki shrugged, trying to cut slits in the blades of grass with his nails and weave them together. How dull this all was. He did love his father, had always wanted to be close to him, but always found that, when conversation started, he would much rather find comfort with his mother. She had always seen the value of his fun, his words, in a way that Odin could not. Or would not. It didn't really matter. "I didn't have much say in the planning," he added. "Thor came up with it all. I merely persuaded him to postpone the trip until tomorrow morning."  
  
The king seemed to beam at the mention of his elder son's name, and Loki openly rolled his eyes. Yes, yes, he knew that everyone was incredibly taken with Thor. Now, if only the people of Asgard could more on to a more current, and less tedious, matter. Why, Loki would settle for listening to them cheer because Hogun the Grim had, for once, attempted a smile. Anything that wasn't about Thor and all his glory would be perfectly fine by him.   
  
"Did you hear me, son?"  
  
Loki turned his head. "What?"  
  
"I said, you had best not go after bilge snipe." Odin looked rather cross.  
  
The prince snickered and made a face. "Why ever not? Yes, they're big and incredibly ugly, and they certainly smell rancid, but we're men, Father, not children." A laugh. "But a beast so vile as that is no match for the likes of the finest warrior's of the realm. Not to mention the Sons of Odin. Really, Father. It will all be as child's play."  
  
The Allfather was obviously wary, but seemed a little more at ease with that last part. But the satisfaction and pride quickly died out, the spark in his eye quickly diminished with the cloud covering of a father's need to protect. Loki hated that look.   
  
"Caution," was the reply, and the prince found a firm hand on his shoulder as he stood. "If it takes a bit of foolishness and a few bruises for the lot of you to grow, I accept. But I will not tolerate the outlandish recklessness that the two of you always take part in. Do not think yourselves immortal."  
  
Loki nodded as Odin turned his back, moved back towards the steps and casting his gaze to the heavens. It would begin to pour again soon, as they both knew.   
  
He spat at the ground, not at all attempting to hide the fact that he was insulted by those words.  _He_  was cautious by nature. Thor, on the other hand, was the epitome of the phrase "reckless fool."


	5. Show Me The Beast

The instant his eyes had fluttered open, Thor had rolled out of bed and onto the floor, set about gathering his packed belongings in his arms and heading for the door. The task had proven somewhat difficult, trying to move the handle without dropping everything, and he had quickly opted to hopping out the window and landing firmly upon the still wet grass. Thor felt his bones rattle with the impact, took but a second to steady himself before he started running around the palace, a satisfied smile on his face as he went. Only afterward had he realized how silly it had been to challenge his brother, but, with the way he was feeling now, the precautions he'd taken to ensure even a small victory such as this, Thor was certain that Loki's jaw would drop clean off.   
  
He made it to the stables, the smell of kicked up grass hovering in the air with the light fog, and Thor set his things down on the ground and opened the doors, strode quickly inside and removed his horse from its bedding. The animal snorted, stared at him with wide brown eyes and Thor smiled even wider, stroking its muzzle as they stepped out into the now gentle rain. The thunderer reached for his pack and set to fastening it to his steed, as the stable boy had already been about feeding the horses and saddling them for the journey. With the leather straps tied tight, Thor beamed as though the sun had cut through the clouds. He'd never been so proud of himself.   
  
"Oh, don't look so satisfied."  
  
The sound of footsteps sounded in the field behind him, and Thor turned, jaw slack as Loki and their friends sidled up on horseback, Sif putting a hand to her mouth as she laughed. Hogun was stoic as ever, Fandral appeared as though he were drunk and might fall off his mount, and Volstagg sat contentedly with a thick slice of bread in one hand and crumbs upon his beard. The more he stared, looking from one end of the group to the other, it seemed that Loki only smiled wider.   
  
His brother dismounted, a skip in his step as he approached, laughing quietly under his breath as Thor began to shake his head.   
  
"Don't count so well, do you, Thor?" he said, slapping the thunderer on the arm. "Perhaps you should pay more attention."  
  
The thunder god grimaced, released the reins of his horse and took a wild swing at Loki that didn't even come close to connecting. The others just laughed.   
  
"Best get moving," Fandral snickered, suddenly looking perky again. "I suppose you'll want to race the lot of us to the mountainside, yes?"  
  
Biting his tongue, Thor said nothing, quickly mounted his horse and headed off after the others as they laughed, made jokes of him. He scowled. If they were all going to challenge him, he'd do well to put on his best face, focus and refuse to let a one of them get away with all that laughter.   
  
Grass flew up behind them as they raged through the fields, the echoing sound of hooves against stone coming up to pound through Thor's head. He raised a hand to smack away a bit of bread crust that came flying at him, Volstagg's head turning to look back at him with a hearty laugh. It was a fortunate thing that the man hadn't anything in his mouth, as he would have been like to choke on it. Hogun didn't seem particularly interested in the race, and Thor passed him quickly. Fandral, on the other hand, appeared just as determined as the prince himself, and the two rode side by side for a time until the warrior caught sight of a handful of servant girls swimming idly about in the lake, their dressings laid upon the bank. His eyes went wide and he turned, looking very much like a tired old dog as his tongue threatened to loll out of his mouth. The Grim, however had picked up on Sif's irritated expression, and rode past Fandral to deliver a solid smack to the back of his head.   
  
Thor blinked several times, raised a hand to scare away the dust that appeared before his eyes. It didn't seem to go away and began to sparkle, as though he'd spent far too long staring up at the bright morning sun. He heard a laugh, gaze moving to Loki who peered back at him with a mocking look on his face, and Thor knew. His brother was projecting those obnoxious flecks of light to distract him. Cheater.   
  
Leaning forward, Thor held tight to the reins and snapped them, urging the horse onward. Even as he began to steadily speed up, he could hear Loki teasing him, insisting that he'd do well to just call it quits now before someone got hurt. That got Thor to thinking, and once he'd moved up alongside his brother, he grinned, reached over and grabbed Loki by the collar, lifting him right out of the saddle.  
  
"What are you doing?!"  
  
Thor let out that booming laugh of his, and swung Loki behind him, forcing his brother to cling to his shoulders for fear of toppling off the mount. He swept the free reins into a hand to keep the horse running alongside them.  
  
"Now who's winning?" he said, and could feel that icy glare on the back of his neck.   
  
But Loki made no reply, didn't try to shift himself back onto his horse the way Thor had expected him to. He just sighed, as if admitting the thunderer had bested him, and leaned his head against Thor's back. Eventually, the elder prince could hear his brother's breaths slow as he fell asleep, and Thor smiled to himself. So that was how Loki had beat him yet again.   
  
He'd kept himself awake the whole night long.  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
There was a cold, comfortable feeling in his bones, the smell of smoggy air and rain and pines nestled all about him. He shifted, heard the gentle crackling of a fire as twigs were broken in two, tossed into the flame. The voices were quiet, though not with the sort of care that his mother's would have held, the desire to speak low so as not to wake him. No, they were secretive, laced with a hint of amusement. It shouldn't have mattered, but Loki, though he would never tell anyone, did not like being talked about behind his back.   
  
His eyes opened and the fabric of the pitched tent stared down at him, the furs laid out beneath his body as Loki rolled his shoulders and sat up. Thor had done a decent job with unpacking his things for him, though the younger brother didn't like the thought that his victory had gone to waste with the loss of the horse race. He would have stormed out of the tent and berated Thor for his antics were he not equally as guilty of cheating, of staying up through the night, hovering bent over a wrinkled scroll. Of course, there hadn't been any set rules about such things, but he knew that Thor would play that card against him anyway. The "you cheated first, so I cheated back" bit that they had played with as boys.   
  
The flap of the tent was pushed aside, all heads turning the instant he straightened up and kicked a stone their way through the leaves. Loki smirked.   
  
"Having fun without me?"   
  
Fandral was obviously absent, and sounds could be heard from the nearby stream as he chattered on to himself and started to sing. Looking at the man was one thing, particularly for women, but were he to find himself a suitable wife and take to serenading her, Loki was damn certain that the poor girl would slam her bedroom window in the warrior's face and bury her head beneath her pillows. The thought sent that crooked smile across his face until Thor tossed the stone back at him, nearly smacking him in the head.  
  
The thunderer grinned, took to gnawing on a bit of beef and laughed loudly at a remark made by Volstagg, which insisted that, when he was drunk or half-asleep, Loki couldn't even see a horse, much less a flying stone.   
  
"Oh, come now!" Thor bellowed, ushering his brother towards the fire. "It's only a bit of fun, as you say. Don't tell me that the God of Mischief can't handle being the back end of a few good jokes."  
  
Loki said nothing, shrugged and let the whole thing roll off his back as he sat on one of the logs, ignoring Sif as she snickered and nudged him with an elbow. Volstagg smacked his lips, licked the ale from them, even as much of it trailed down his beard and into the dirt, insisting with much fervor that he'd seen a troll on the long ride over. That it had been sitting beneath the bridge that had taken them through a tiny village that lay at the foot of the mountain. The meat was passed around then, passing Loki by as he refused it. Even without having eaten the whole of the day, he wasn't particularly hungry.   
  
With a rather plain look, he stared across the fire at Volstagg.   
  
"That wasn't a troll." They all turned to glance at him, brows raised as if to ask just how he could have known, what with having fallen asleep on the back of his brother's horse. Thor tossed him a waterskin. He took a drink. "Just a reflection of your own ugly mug."  
  
Thor roared with laughter, loud enough that it seemed to shake the pine needles out of the trees as they floated downward and into the fire. The sky rumbled in sync with him, and Loki looked up at the dark mass of clouds that hovered right above their heads. Walking through a brisk rain was one thing, as was watching it from the comforts of the indoors. But sitting out in the wilderness and getting rained on was not Loki's idea of a good time.   
  
There came a sharp yelp from the direction of the stream that caused all heads to turn in time to see Fandral, dripping wet with a towel around his waist, stumbling through the brush and into the dirt. His eyes were wide, panicked, and Loki pushed off the log to move towards the part in the trees to the north, stare across the gloomy landscape to spy the tall spires of the palace in the distance. Better that than running the risk of seeing Fandral's naked ass.   
  
"What is it now?" Sif said, clearly uninterested.   
  
No surprise that she wouldn't care, as Fandral, who very much enjoyed making himself a bit of a spectacle, had a horrid tendency to overreact. Why, once, he had found a silver hair in his comb and had bemoaned his bad fortune for nearly three days. Of course, it had only happened to belong to his frail grandmother who had taken to using the thing often.   
  
"Didn't find another silver hair, did you?" Loki quipped with a grin. He heard Fandral shift from behind and sidestepped when the man chucked a large pine cone at him.  
  
"No!" came the indignant reply. "I was taking a bath, minding my own business when–"  
  
The trickster prince turned, smiling all the wider. "When what? You realized that you had mistakenly left your sweet-smelling bath product in the bathhouse?"  
  
The others laughed. Fandral swore at him.   
  
"There's something in those damned bushes!" he howled, pointing back from whence he'd came. "I saw it! Big, nasty old thing with huge eyes, and–"  
  
Thor slapped his hands together, rubbed them eagerly as that cocky smile appeared on his face. "Big, you say." Dread pooled in Loki's gut as his brother stepped towards his horse, took hold of his blade and held it in the firelight. He was going to do something stupid again. "Well, let's see it! Show me this beast!"  
  
Loki said nothing, leaned back against the bark of a tree, watched as Fandral, still wet and shaking, gave Thor a shove towards the stream like a frightened woman. Of course, he wouldn't say anything, lest Sif should chase him down for a fight. Volstagg and Hogun had remained silent, exchanging glances with each other until they heard Thor laugh again, tromp through the brush with a red faced Fandral trailing behind in embarrassment. This time, he came carrying his clothes.   
  
"It's not funny!" Fandral shouted, quickly retreating to his tent.   
  
"What was it?"  
  
Thor looked between them and smiled at Sif. He raised a hand, a gesture for them to wait a moment, and hurried back through the foliage, returning not even a minute later with a large rabbit, no longer breathing, held by the ears.   
  
"A rabbit," Loki said deadpan. "Well, now we know which of us is a waste of the word 'warrior.'"  
  
The prince could have sworn that Fandral, amid hiding and dressing in his tent, muttered some manner of vulgarity at him. But Loki paid it no mind.   
  
"Did you kill it?" Sif asked.  
  
Thor shook his head. "Scared it to death, I think," he replied, looking morose, "when I charged into the brush."  
  
Loki rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're not going to eat the damn thing, then bury it. I'd rather not waste the night away guarding against bears and bilge snipe."  
  
The thunderer gave him a sad look, stared blankly at the frail little rabbit in his hand, and turned away towards the stream again.   
  
Funny as the whole ordeal was, the meal ended immediately after.


	6. A Brother's Pride

It had rained hard for hours now, having started from the instant that Thor had returned from disposing of the rabbit. The moisture had easily snuffed out their fire, leaving the warriors to return to their tents and sit in cold, wet misery. Loki thought that they should have hung their furs out by the fire to keep them warm, but they hadn't remembered his words from the last time a mistake like this had been made. Of course, it seemed that the only time the others paid any attention to his suggestions was when he actually acted upon them himself and forced everyone else to take part. And not a one of them liked that. Not even tolerant Thor. It didn't matter if he was right.   
  
The brothers sat quietly side by side, the smell of old book pages filling the tent as Loki said nothing, let his eyes skim blankly across the page. Eventually, he snapped the thing shut and tossed it back into his pack. He wasn't getting anything out of it anyway. Best to try again when he actually gave a damn. Thor, on the other hand, had set about to polishing his blade, humming to himself as the smell on the rubbing cloth stung Loki's eyes and nose. There was a reason why one didn't just polish armor and metal in small spaces. The strength of the stuff was ghastly, certainly strong enough to knock out a small child after just a whiff or two.   
  
Loki groaned, lay on his stomach and buried his face in the furs. Thor thumped him on the back with a hand.   
  
He wanted to know why his brother was so down.   
  
How strange it was that, in the midst of fine companions, Thor had no mind nor eye with which to see through him, determine exactly what irked Loki and what didn't. When they were alone, however, the thunder god saw everything, as though his brother's thoughts were written in upon his pale skin with the thick, black marks of charcoal. Loki flinched, feeling Thor lay on his back beside him, nudge him sharply with an elbow. He frowned, rolled onto his side with his back facing Thor, bit his lip and braced himself for the myriad of ignorant questions that were to come.   
  
"Are you troubled, Brother?"  
  
Thor's tone was quiet, smooth, so unlike the man he was around their friends, their parents. He was loud, their mother would say, a jolly soul who had no hope of ever being quieted. A man who brought life and laughter to all who met him, all he loved. Loki couldn't quite agree with that kind of behavior, though. Otherwise, he'd be just as foolish-looking as his brother, parading about the royal city with that skip in his step and beaming smile upon his face. The thought of his own features bearing such a thing at all hours of the day was foreign and bizarre. Loki didn't like it. He was perfectly content with his reserved ways, and wouldn't change them for anything.   
  
The elbow prodded him again, this time in the spine, and Loki sat up, scooted to the opposite end of the tent and curled himself in the corner. Thor obviously wasn't very good at picking upon body language, as he followed quickly after, coming to sit by the trickster prince and drape an arm about his shoulders.   
  
"Whatever it is, you can tell me," he said, nudging Loki's cheek with his knuckles. "Come on. What's wrong?"  
  
To be honest, there wasn't anything particularly wrong with the situation. Though, now that Thor had gone and popped that lovely little question, Loki found himself spinning about within his skull, thinking on everything and anything that had ever caused him even the slightest bit of grief or trouble. That which came first to mind was the warning his father had given him the day before.   
  
It was evident, by the way the Allfather looked at him, that Odin didn't think his younger son a man. That, no matter what he did to earn his father's acceptance, it just wasn't right or good enough. There was that gleam in the man's one eye that Loki had always wanted to see with his name upon it, the one that only ever seemed to come about with the mention of Thor's name, or with his brother's great exploits, for Thor could never do any wrong. There were a scant few years between them, but it seemed that they were great enough in the eye of the king to separate them into completely different classes.   
  
Loki leaned forward, crosses his arms and rested them upon his drawn up knees. "Father likes you best, you know."  
  
Thor's sky blue eyes widened, golden brows arched in surprise. "What?"  
  
The elder couldn't have been expected to notice such a thing, oblivious as he was to all the important little hints in life. And that bugged Loki even more, that Thor, as ignorant as he was and as much as Loki loved him, was still the favored son.   
  
"Why would you say that?" Thor knelt in front of him, shook him as though he did not believe those words. Of course he didn't. He wouldn't. "Why would you lie?!"  
  
Loki scowled, lifted a foot and booted his brother in the chest before tearing out of the tent, running through the rain towards the edge of the treeline. He stood there, stared out across the wide landscape, eyes narrowed and fixated on the royal city, which, from so far away, still seemed to shine. He was soon soaked through, hair sticking to the sides of his face and hanging in his smoldering eyes. Loki shook his head, pushed it back with a hand and sat down in the mud.   
  
"That's so like you," he snapped, hearing Thor come to stand behind him. "Like him, too. You think I'm incapable of sincerity, don't you?!" His voice was rising, cracking with the sharp, cold breaths that were sucked into his lungs. "You think that I have no talent other than to lie and scheme! You think–"  
  
He fell forward as his brother shoved him, wet dirt smeared across his face and in his mouth as Thor grabbed him by the ankle, dragged him through the grime as Loki thrashed, demanding that he be let go this instant. The thunderer ignored him as the sky growled, likely brought about by Thor's freshly fouled temper. Loki's heart sank as Thor lifted him above his head, let him fly until the water of the shallow stream crashed around him, came to sit on him, hold him down as the muck was washed away.  
  
"Do you really believe that dribble?!" Thor bellowed, shoving him against the bank and giving Loki a sharp slap. "That you have no skill save your tricks?! That you are empty?!"  
  
That struck him harder than Thor's fists ever could.   
  
"You are my brother!" the prince shouted above the rain. "Don't you  _ever_  think yourself less than me; than anyone!" Thor sighed, sat upright on the bank and pulled Loki from the water. "I won't have it..."  
  
The trickster hunched over, spat water from his mouth and said nothing.   
  
Thor was the only person he knew who could deliver a sound beating, a lecture, and have it serve some good to the one on the receiving end. It had happened often in the past. They would fight, usually about stupid things, and end up rolling around in the grass, the dirt, on the palace floors with Loki stuck on the bottom. Thor would hit him, scream at him, and end up crying himself by the time the deed was done, pulling Loki into his arms and saying that none of it mattered anymore. Not because the trickster had so easily lost, but because they were brothers. Because they loved each other.   
  
Loki shifted, gave Thor a hard smack. "You're the only one who can get away with that," he said, and his brother gave a soft smile. "Were it anyone else, I'd play myself a game of hide-and-seek with their head."  
  
"Just so long as it didn't end up in Mother's armoire."   
  
Now  _that_  was funny. Imagining gentle Frigga sweeping through the palace on air, tugging open the wardrobe doors and finding a severed head. It would be a horrible prank to play on her, forget everyone else, but it was laughable.   
  
"What makes you think Father dislikes you so?"  
  
"I never said that he dislikes me," Loki corrected him. "But he likes you more. He's always proud of you."  
  
Pale eyes shifted to the side, caught sight of Thor's as they grew sad. "If it's any consolation... I–I'm proud of you."  
  
What was there to say to that? Would he tell Thor the truth, allow him to know his darkest of secrets? Tell his brother that, for so long as he could remember, he had always wanted to match his strides, stand as tall as Thor did? That he was always jealous? It was a stupid thing to be upset about, and Loki would not pull his brother into that same misery. He would not make Thor feel ashamed to be the hero that all of Asgard knew him to be.   
  
"Well, if Father can't be proud of you as well, then... then... we'll run away! Together."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Muspelheim."  
  
Loki scoffed. "No. Not Muspelheim. It's too damn hot." Thor laughed. "Do you want me to die of heat exhaustion, Brother? You know I don't like the heat."  
  
Thor rolled his tongue about the inside of his mouth and cocked his head. "Funny you should say that," he mused aloud. "Because, the way I heard it, you had a  _very_  heated visit with the beautiful Sigyn when last you met."  
  
The trickster's eyes shot open to the size of saucers. "Who told you that?!"  
  
A shrug. "No one." And a wink. "You just did."  
  
Loki crossed his arms and turned away, as though he were just a child again, skipping lessons and pouting when his mother had found him hiding behind the curtains. But he couldn't help smiling, knowing that, maybe, Thor was beginning to pick up things from him instead of the other way around. It was an interesting feeling. Pride, but not.   
  
"Where would you like to go, then? If we never went home? Midgard?"  
  
The prince shook his head, wrinkled his nose. "With the mortals? Please. You only like them because they worship you."  
  
"And you like them because they fear you and your devilish tricks."  
  
Above, the sky still poured her heart out, kept on soaking them right through the skin and bone until they sat close together, huddled into themselves and gently shuddering. Loki forced himself to look up, wished that the clouds were gone and the moon shone through the darkness, that the stars would blink into existence as they sat in the dense branches of the trees. He's always loved them, thought that, of all the things that lived and breathed in the universe, the stars were the most stunning.   
  
He smiled.   
  
"Out there," he said, pointing to the heavens. "Beyond the Nine Realms, to any and every world that we have never seen."  
  
Thor could have dashed that dream, told him that there was nothing beyond the branches of Yggdrasil, that he was foolish and a child. But his hand touched Loki's shoulder and tugged him close.   
  
"All right, then. One of these days, we'll run away and never come back. And we'll explore the cosmos. Find every world, every star, and make them our own."  
  
Getting to his feet, Loki offered Thor a hand, pulled him up and grinned. "I'd like that. Very much."


	7. Imperfect Harmonies

The following morning, Thor found himself awakened by shouting.   
  
"What do you mean you didn't tie them up?! What is the matter with you?! It was your job!"  
  
He groaned, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yanked on his boots, now caked with dried mud from the previous night. A yawn escaped him, and Thor pushed himself through the tent flap, found himself staring at his friends crowded around the burned out fire, all in obviously foul moods. Fandral had a bright red mark on the side of his face, an indication of the fact that Sif had lost her temper and slapped him for some stupid remark or another. He was shouting in her face, shaking as Volstagg pulled him back and Hogun stepped in between them.   
  
"Enough," the Grim said without raising his tone. "It matters not now who did or didn't tie the horses up."  
  
Sif hissed, turned away from them on her heel and set about kicking pine cones as far as she could. Some of them broke into pieces upon coming into contact with the toe of her boot. The woman crossed her arms, brushed pine needles from her hair and refused to say a word more. Volstagg forcibly removed Fandral, carried him over his shoulder to a large boulder and planted him on it with a low word of warning. The blond warrior grimaced and looked away. Hogun glanced to Thor as he approached.   
  
"What's happened?" he said, boots coming to stick again in the wet earth. "What's this about the horses?"  
  
The Grim's eyes seemed to fall. "Fandral forgot to tie up the horses last night, and it would seem they've run off."  
  
Thor sighed aloud, turned about in circles with a hand pressed to his mouth. What would they do without the horses? How would they hunt? What with being this high up in the mountains, this far from the royal city, it would take them at least three days to return home. Perhaps more were they to head back carrying a prize. The prince said nothing to his friends, refused to spare Fandral even a passing glance as he growled loudly, raised a foot and planted it against the side of his tent.   
  
 _"Ow!"_  
  
He stood straight then, fingers laced and looking sheepish as the tent flipped over, and Thor suddenly remembered that his brother had still been sleeping inside, and that he had likely just kicked Loki in the gut. The fabric flopped about, yanking the posts from the wet ground as it wrapped tightly around him. Thor could hear Sif snickering behind him as Loki swore violently, the shapes of his hands appearing through the sides of the tent as he struggled to get free.   
  
The thunderer's first instinct was to take hold of the tent, pull it apart with his hands and leave it be. But he knew that, were he to so much as make a hole in the thing, Loki would have his head and would refuse to repair it for him. And, seeing how it was Thor's tent, that would leave him without a proper place to sleep for the rest of their trip.   
  
As soon as the tent rolled towards him, Thor knelt down and unwound the cords that had become tangled together, biting his lip and urging himself not to comment about the fact that Loki would not have had a very enjoyable life as a caterpillar. The strings fell away, and Thor pushed his brother along the ground, eventually reaching inside the tent and tugging him out by the wrist. The others smiled at the sight, the young prince with tired eyes and disheveled hair, but Loki looked positively outraged.   
  
With his free hand, he slapped Thor's away, hobbled to his feet and brushed the dirt and grime from his clothes as he doubled over, scowling and remarking that kicking a man in the chest was not the appropriate way to wake him. Thor offered an apologetic smile and knelt beside him as Loki sat down.   
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Beneath his damp and matted hair, Loki glowered up at him, smacked Thor full in the face, and hissed, "What would make you think that I'm all right?!"   
  
The elder prince said nothing and rested his hand on Loki's shoulder. His brother looked as though he were about to vomit.   
  
They had stayed awake far into the night, until the early hours of the dawn, talking about many things of consequence and others that meant nothing, having climbed up one of the pine trees to seek shelter from the rain and stare out across their world. It would be a great undertaking, the brothers had agreed, to rule the whole of Asgard. It was a massive and beautiful place, moreso than any realm they had yet had chance to visit. And it had dawned upon the both of them that, in comparison to the mass of land and sky and life, even a king, powerful as he may have been, was very easily dwarfed by the sheer intensity of it all. He couldn't speak for his brother, but it had made Thor very uneasy in regards to who their father would choose to succeed to the throne.   
  
Sitting on his haunches, Thor felt himself topple back and into the mud as Loki pushed him.   
  
"Now," he wheezed, "what are you all shouting about?"  
  
That lit the fire all over again.   
  
"It's Fandral!" Sif said, pointing accusingly at the warrior. "He failed to remember to tie the horses up last night, and they've since run away! Now we are stranded here!" The anger in her eyes seemed to fade for a moment as she looked hopefully at Loki. "Unless you can find means with which to conjure something up for us."  
  
Thor hadn't thought of that, but knew better than to get his hopes up.   
  
"I'd rather have our horses back," he replied, completely dodging her suggestion. He straightened up. "Now, were you too tired to remember, Fandral? Or did you waste away the night examining the whole of yourself in that pretty little mirror?"  
  
Fandral's nostrils flared, and he shot forward off the rock, only to be shoved back by Volstagg who was about as solid as a brick wall.   
  
"What are you implying?!" the warrior shot back, struggling against the Valiant's grip. An embarrassed blush crept up onto his cheeks.   
  
Loki rolled his neck on his shoulders and shrugged. "I suppose I'd best spell it out for all of you." A pause, and Fandral's red shade seemed to grow even darker. "There have been some rumors flitting about among the female servants that dear Fandral, before embarking upon his famed escapades, likes to model and examine himself in the mirror."   
  
If Thor had held anything in his mouth when the words had slipped past Loki's lips, he would have dropped on all fours and coughed it up.   
  
His grip on the shaking blond vanished immediately, and Volstagg fell onto his backside with deafening laughter, caking the seat of his pants in mud. The warrior growled, launched himself off the rock and stalked towards Loki, hands balled tightly into fists as he began to threaten, describe just how he'd get back at the prince for this horrendous humiliation. But, as the words left his mouth, Fandral's expression brightened immensely, that devious smile of his own coming to join the game. He laughed.   
  
Loki wore a perplexed look.   
  
"Oh, I know just how to deal with that," said the philanderer, walking slowly about the remains of the fire. He beamed, as though the sun had cut through the clouds, and stared happily at the trickster. "Have you heard that story about Sleipnir?"  
  
Thor made a face, had no idea what Fandral was talking about, and turned to stare at his brother. Loki was biting his lip so hard, the flesh could have come off in his mouth.   
  
 _"Don't."_  
  
The Valiant had ceased his laughter, seated himself upon one of the logs surrounding the fire pit, and stared eagerly at Fandral. Hogun, who usually looked nonplussed, had a glint of surprise and confusion brimming in his dark eyes. And, as he turned to watch Sif, Thor noted that she was fighting back a very amused smile, and he had no idea as to why.   
  
A pine cone was plucked from the ground, tossed about in Fandral's gloved hands before he began breaking off tiny pieces, throwing them at Loki though they were sure not to reach.   
  
"There's a story, throughout the  _whole of Asgard,_ " he said, and Thor knew that, whatever this was about, that last bit would be eating his brother's lunch in a moment, "about the trickster prince. That, through his craft, he changed his appearance to that of a mare, and–"  
  
There came a heavy thud as Loki threw a rock at the man, striking him full in the chest before charging at him and setting his hands about Fandral's throat. Thor, for a moment, thought himself to be dreaming.   
  
"Bastard!" Loki growled, shoving the warrior further into the wet dirt as he struggled for breath. "You know as well as any that that's a damned  _lie!_ "  
  
Thor joined the others in tugging the two of them apart, holding Loki in his arms and dragging him away from the target of his fury. His brother struggled, cursing and swearing that Fandral would pay for speaking of such a thing, filthy lie that it was. Thor himself had never heard this rumor, though his knowledge as to his brother's true potential with magic was somewhat limited, and had not once seen Loki change shape. Only disappear.   
  
Turning to his friends, their eyes were all wide, and Fandral looked about ready to urinate on himself.   
  
He said nothing, continued to fight with Loki until deciding that it would just be better to throw the trickster over his shoulder and remove him from the camp. He did so, flinching as he tried to ignore his brother's shouts in his ear.   
  
Thor did not stop until they had slid down two small hills to the east and reached the mouth of an empty cave. A distance which, given how much energy Loki had just wasted in his anger, his brother would not be able to traverse alone.   
  
It was with a huff that Thor finally dropped him on the ground, watched the other scowl up at him with an accusing glare.   
  
"Why do you always interfere?!" Loki snapped.   
  
"Because you're being foolish," Thor replied, knowing well that he must have sounded like a godawful hypocrite. He'd been foolish more times than he had dared to count, and possessed the sinking feeling in his gut that his brother was like to bring that all about. "Now, what rumor do the fools of Asgard spread about my brother?"  
  
Dirt flew into the mouth of the cave as Loki gave the ground a solid kick, turning himself in crazed circles before he sat down, knotted fingers into his dark hair.   
  
"You don't know how I made that horse, do you?"   
  
Thor said nothing.   
  
"There was a star," his brother whispered, having calmed down considerably. "It fell, the way the stories say, but right into the sea. By all the laws, it should have died out in space, burst and spent years finally fading away. But it came to me, on the shore, settled down in the sand and blinked until it was just a white stone..."  
  
His nose wrinkled, not understanding a word of the tale at all. Stars had been known to fall, Thor knew, though they certainly did not make a beeline for the sea. Nor were they known to be but the size of stones. Even so, he said nothing.   
  
"So I took it, felt its breath slipping away as it came close to death, wrapped it in light and fire, watched it grow. And he was there, strong and bold as any god who has ever held Asgard in his hands. Sleipnir was beast fit only for use by a king." He looked to Thor. " _Our_  king."  
  
The prince smiled, sat down and stared towards the north, eyes shifting through the fog in hopes that the palace could be seen. Sadly, it was nowhere to be found among the tones of gray.  
  
"Would you believe," Loki laughed, "that, when I brought the horse to him, that was the first time, I think, Father actually looked at me?"  
  
Thor held his tongue, refused to let his temper get the better of him as well. It was certain that, now, they could not run away, find a place among the stars. They would return to Asgard's royal city in a few days time, and stand before their father, prove that they were men rather than boys. And Thor, though it was certainly not his place, would insist that the Allfather acknowledge his dear brother for all that he was.   
  
His mouth opened to speak, but Loki raised a hand to him, eyes wide and alert as he turned slowly around. Thor made move to follow, but he was stopped.   
  
 _"Don't... make a sound..."_  Loki told him in a whisper, and Thor could feel someone, or something, watching him from behind.   
  
Gently, his hand moved to his hip, but found that there was no blade. They had left their weapons back at camp, found themselves armed only with his fists and his brother's silver tongue.   
  
They stood up slowly, and Thor moved quietly to his right as Loki nudged him, still insisting with his eyes that he keep quiet. Something shifted within the cave, as though daggers were being dragged across the stone floors, and snorted, leaving a wad of colored saliva sticking to the point on the ground where the brothers had sat moments before. Thor turned his head, breath catching in his throat as he saw the beast, its small eyes searching for them as its bulk moved from the mouth of the cave and touched the earth. The mud rose around the creature's foot.   
  
Thor flinched as he stepped backwards and onto a twig, causing it to snap in half. Loki turned to look at him in time with the creature, eyes wide.   
  
 _"Run!"_


	8. Youth And Whiskey

Why Thor had thought it a good idea to move so far from camp was entirely beyond him. They were forced to trek uphill now, scrambling through the dirt as though this was all another one of their games of chase through the vineyard or the rows of apple trees; as though the sound of heavy footsteps were those of young Volstagg as he roared, charged after them on his pony while they took turns playing at monster. Even the palace servants and the teachers, such as the man who had taught the youngsters to duel, had played with them on occasion, catching he or Thor and sweeping them into his arms with a quick "Gotcha!" But this was nothing like their games had been, for there had been no fear running amok with friends on the palace grounds, only laughter, and there was none of that here.   
  
The two ran until their muscles burned, until Loki was sure that he'd end up coughing up a lung once he had chance to stop and catch his breath. But he couldn't think of that, of rest, as he grabbed Thor by the forearm and pulled him sharply off to the right. His brother hurried along behind until Loki shoved him towards a tree, told him to get to climbing or to get back to camp before the both of them were chewed bits of flesh.   
  
The beast charged at him with a roar as Loki struck its hide with a sharp rain of daggers, feeling incredibly foolish for not having realized that such an attack would do nothing against hardened skin. The prince made a face as he rolled out of the way, the monster streaking past him and taking out several trees. He'd seen a bilge snipe only once before, though it had been easily felled by elder warriors when Loki had been but a child, and had remembered that godawful smell that radiated from their bodies, as though someone had left a pitcher of milk to dry out in the sun for a week. He gagged, shoved a sleeve against his nose as the creature skidded in the dirt, turned right back around and made a beeline for him.   
  
Now would be a fantastic time for Odin to arrive on his horse, he thought. Though that had only happened once when Thor had dragged the lot of them into Svartalfheim some years before and gotten them stranded and captured. Dark Elves, as Loki would always remember, did not like him nor Thor. Not to mention his brother's haughty attitude. That, he imagined, had set them off more than anything else.  
  
The creature didn't ram him with its antlers as Loki had expected it to, but slammed the side of its beefy shoulder against him, sent him across the ground and through a bush. His back ached as he twisted on the ground, grimaced and groaned as his eyes cracked open to stare up at the treetops. It was still near, its breath and stench foul and carried on the light wind that brushed through the pines. That metal tang shot through his mouth and he swallowed the urge to spit, fearful that even the slightest sound would set the monster off again. The ground shook as its heavy bulk wandered around, like to think that it had rid itself of any threat Loki may have posed.   
  
He breathed quietly, stars blinking in the gray skies above as his head began to spin, blood pounding in his ears. Where the hell was Thor? Loki grimaced, hoped that his brother hadn't taken his order to climb a tree literally, otherwise he'd be stuck here for quite some time waiting for the bilge snipe to wander off. At the thought, the sound of rustling foliage stopped and the smell faded. He waited a few minutes, but it did not return, and Loki sat up, groaning as he began to suspect that the impact had broken something. The prince got to his feet, shook leaves and needles from his hair and tried to remember exactly which whey they'd been running when he had separated from Thor.   
  
"Damn..."  
  
A roar sounded from behind as Loki was hit again, skidding through the leaves and wincing, now certain that he was going to go home with broken ribs. The bastard had moved downwind, hidden its wretched scent and circled around behind him. His forehead touched the dirt, and the trickster suddenly wondered how in the living hell the ground and the sky had swapped places.   
  
A loud crack cut through the air, and the bilge snipe howled again, louder this time, as Thor came charging through the trees with a blade in hand, having whacked off a good portion of one of its antlers. He couldn't see the others, but heard them as they shouted, all took their turns at striking through the beast's hardened hide.   
  
"Stay awake!" Sif hissed, and shook him, further rattling his head and strengthening the headache. "Stay awake!"   
  
He said nothing, stared at her and wondered why the hell Thor hadn't yet plucked up the courage to accept the obvious affection she held for him. Then again, his brother was rather ignorant to such things. Loki scowled, turned in time to see Thor shove his blade up and through the roof of the bilge snipe's mouth as it fell to the ground in a dead heap, raining blood upon the thunderer.   
  
That stupid half-smile made its way across Thor's face as he sighed, and Loki shook his head.   
  
Naturally. Leave it to Thor to lure and kill a raging bilge snipe.   
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
The fire raged stronger than it had the night before, and Thor watched as Hogun set to cleaning blood off his mace, a seemingly satisfied expression on his face, though it was still rather difficult to tell. The prince sat in silence, hunched over on the log and watching Sif from the corner of his eye as she appeared from her tent with a roll of bandages, a waterskin, and a cloth. She didn't seem to notice him, though, having taken it upon herself to ensure that Loki didn't break anything else as he squirmed in Volstagg's grasp.  
  
It was a terrible feeling, to know that he'd caused his own brother such pain, that he hadn't been fast enough to return to camp and get the help and weapons that had been needed. Not a word had escaped his mouth since they'd returned, dragging the body back with them as soon as they'd run across the horses, led back up the mountain by a man who hailed from the village below. Apparently, the mounts had been spooked by the sound of the beast in the night, had taken off running and been found in the man's camp early that morning. Fortune had smiled upon them, for the man himself, called Ghamrel, had seen them ride through the village and headed up the mountain for his own sport some hours later.   
  
Thor flinched, golden brows coming to touch the bridge of his nose as he tried not to listen, tried not to hear as Loki growled, muttering to Sif that she was too damned rough. To which she had easily replied that he needed to be less careless. That boiled the prince's blood, made him want to stand and correct her, say that it had been his fault to begin with. He had stepped on the twig, he had been too late to keep Loki from getting hurt, and he had been the one who proposed this whole thing in the first place. All of it was his fault.   
  
When Sif and Volstagg finally left his brother alone, Thor had a mind to sit with him, see if there was anything he could to to make it up to him, but the warrior woman took a seat on the log beside him, smiled gingerly and patted his arm. The thunderer said nothing, turned his attention to staring into the fire as Sif's hair burned even brighter gold in the flickering light.   
  
"Don't worry," she told him, clearly trying to sound positive. "He'll be fine."  
  
It didn't matter what Sif said, what any of them said, all of this had been his fault, and telling himself that everything would be all right wasn't going to cut it. Thor said nothing, and patiently waited until she got the hint, stood up, and headed back to her tent.   
  
Hogun stared at him from across the flames, and when Thor opened his mouth to ask what he was looking at, the Grim looked back to his mace and shrugged. Apparently, he didn't want to have a conversation either.  
  
The prince spent an hour beating himself up before the others all retired for bed, not at all offering up their words of encouragement, for they were sure to know that he wouldn't listen to them. Eventually, Thor downed half a loaf of bread and, too lazy to wrap it up and put it away again, held it in his fist until the thing was smashed, and forced himself to sheepishly sit beside his brother.  
  
"How is it?" he asked quietly, noting the smell of alcohol on his brother's breath. Sif had likely filled the waterskin with it.  
  
Loki made a face as though he were going to spit. His voice came out hoarse. "Terrible."  
  
Thor chuckled, thumped him lightly on the head, threw the bread into the fire. "That's because you don't drink as we do. Don't worry. You'll get used to it."  
  
He wove his fingers together, twiddled his thumbs and said nothing more. Thor had hoped that the jab would make his brother laugh, make him forget about all the chaos they'd been through the whole of the day. Blue eyes watched as Loki found a stone on the ground, frowned and threw it as hard as he could at the bulk of the bilge snipe, swearing under his breath before calling the thing a stupid bastard, curling back in on himself in pain.  
  
"It really is as Mother says," he sighed, and Thor made a soft sound of inquiry. Loki leaned back against the tree and raised the waterskin. "Youth is like whiskey. You can't get enough."  
  
Thor grinned, clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course. Best to revel in it while it lasts."  
  
The trickster breathed through his nose, drained the waterskin and tossed it aside, leaning gingerly onto Thor's shoulder.   
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Please, tell me we can go home tomorrow," Loki whined, closing his eyes. "I'm so tired of this..."  
  
Thor only laughed.


	9. These Lonely Nights

Thor sang loudly as they rode down the mountain in a line, tugging the hulking body of the bilge snipe behind them with ropes. He had thought that morning to postpone their trip home for a day, fashion a sort of sled out of the knocked down trees, but Loki, having been very afraid of spending another night in the godforsaken wilderness after all his misery, had stopped him, waved a hand and turned the cracked trunks into the very thing that Thor had sought to build. Looking back to his brother now, wincing with every step his horse took, he could see that Loki was thrilled to be heading home.   
  
Eventually, Loki fell asleep again, and Thor sang with less enthusiasm, contenting himself with quiet hums of the war songs of old, playing out the battles in his mind as he swung an arm, played at slaying imaginary beasts and enemy warriors. Such a battle lust he had, as his mother had often pointed out. Told him that, were he not to get that imagination of his under control, he might end up in a great deal of trouble. And that got Thor to thinking, as he imagined riding across the bridge and onto the palace grounds, that he'd have to tell her that she'd been right; that he had gotten into trouble, and that Loki was banged up because of it.   
  
"We should rest in the village up ahead," Sif told him, and the thunder god replied with a nod, standing up in an attempt to see over the pines.   
  
He smiled when thick smoke filtered up above the tops of the trees, urged his horse to move faster as they cut through the low-hanging branches, singing and cheering and startling Loki into wakefulness again. Thor tried hard not to smile when his brother sat upright in the saddle again, smacked his forehead against one of the branches that the thunderer himself had ducked under seconds before. But he said nothing, pushed the horse further and slowed it to a stop as they trotted into the village.   
  
The people stared in awe, several of them gathering around the body of the bilge snipe as it slid through the dirt on the wooden platform, many of them turning to look between the warriors as if to discern just who had slain it.   
  
One man approached as Thor hopped to the ground, turned around and brought Loki to his feet as well. The trickster shut his eyes and groaned.   
  
"Greetings, travelers," he said, offering Thor a hand. The prince beamed and shook it fiercely. "I am called–"  
  
"We need supplies," the prince said hurriedly, not noting the stunned look on the much smaller man's face. "And quickly, if you will. We ride for the royal–"  
  
A pine cone hit Thor in the back of the head. He turned back and saw Loki doubled over, still moaning.   
  
"Don't be rude, Thor," he chided, steadying himself against the side of his horse. Loki peered around him at the man. "Forgive my brother. He is horribly inept in social situations."   
  
That made the thunderer pout and puff out his lower lip, and he made a face at Loki that involved sticking out a tongue. In turn, the corner of the trickster's lip curled, and Fandral shoved his way past him. Loki looked about ready to drop to the ground and pound his head into the dirt. Thor felt terrible.   
  
Thor turned away from the man completely, allowed Fandral and the others to deal with the various social graces while he grabbed his brother by the shoulder.   
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Loki's pale eyes opened and moved to his left arm, which Sif had set firmly with a splint and bandages, and grimaced. "I want to go home."  
  
The God of Thunder sighed through his nose and motioned to Sif as she looked back at him.   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"We can't stay here," he told her, forcing Loki back up and into the saddle. He fell forward against the horse's mane. "We have to get home. Now."  
  
The woman stuttered, stared at him with confusion and motioned towards the group of villagers that had convened around the Warriors Three. "These people have offered to help us on our way," she said, eyes wide and sharp. "We can replenish supplies here! We can't just–"  
  
Loki nudged the horse forward just enough so that he could grab Sif by her golden hair. She looked to him, silently threatening, but he ignored her.   
  
"Do you have anything else to drink?" he heaved, and turned his eyes to Thor. "This is your damn fault, you know. I knew it was... I knew coming out here would turn out badly... It always does... You always get us... into..."  
  
The hand fell from Sif's ponytail as Loki began slipping from the saddle. It didn't matter if he was broken and tired. They couldn't very well make the day's journey home to the palace if they had to stop and keep Loki from falling off his mount every five minutes. Thor yanked him off the horse and sighed. His brother would be furious once he came into his own again, found that they were still in the village, but Thor wasn't going to ride home at top speed and risk injuring him further. He was going to make the right call this time, ensure that nothing would go wrong and that no one else would be hurt.   
  
Volstagg hurried towards them, eyes wide as he hadn't eaten at all that morning, and explained that there was a great dining hall where they'd be put up and fed until they had rested themselves. But most importantly, as the bearded warrior repeated,  _fed._  He looked like a child in a sweet shop.  
  
If things hadn't been tense and uncomfortable for him, Thor would have laughed at that. Rather, he nodded to Hogun, asked that he and Sif make sure that the horses were fed and rested as well, that the bilge snipe wasn't tampered with, and followed a passive Fandral and overjoyed, and almost skipping, Volstagg to the dining hall, carrying Loki along on his back.   
  
They'd rest for a few hours, Thor told himself. Just long enough to satisfy everyone, and then they'd set off again. And, if he had to, he'd keep Loki with him on his horse, take care of him the way he'd always promised to.  
  
His brother coughed, shifting as Thor jogged slowly, trying not to jostle him too much.   
  
"I hate this," he breathed, and Thor could almost see a teary-eyed little boy standing in the courtyard, blood staining the front his tunic after a hard fall. "I want to go home..."  
  
Thor sighed, trudged up the wooden steps of the building as the sky began to growl again.   
  
"I know..."  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
Rain came down in sheets, threatening the windows as the glass rattled, and Frigga had cause to think that they might burst open at any moment, sent water rushing across the palace floors. But they had been fastened tight as she remembered, and returned to her book. She had sat with it for the majority of the day, skimming through the musty old text and smiling with pride. It was full of stories, tales recounting the greatest warriors in the history of Asgard, and it would soon hold the names of both her boys, clever and daring as they were.   
  
They would not be returning home today, she thought, knowing that the mountain roads must have been full up with mud and water. Too dangerous to run the horses through, particularly with towing home a kill. The river upon the mass of earth was sure to have started overflowing by now, much like the fountains that sat down in the gardens below her balcony, and she gave a thought to the fish Loki had left to live within, hoped that they wouldn't be washed out of the marble pools by the rain and left to dry out when the sun arrived again. But, even were they to be swept right down the steps and into the lake water, when her boys returned, Loki was like to magic them back to where they belonged.   
  
For the past two days, she had wondered about them, hoped that the hunt was going well, all the while trying to push Odin's loud fears from her mind. They were still just boys, he had said, would continue to get themselves into trouble so long as they thought themselves immortal. Why, he'd been at it for the whole of their absence, pacing about the palace halls and fretting all the while, and Frigga had since decided it best not to try and calm him, for it never did any good until their sons had returned whole. She had run off to the library, collected several books and settled back into her private chambers.   
  
One of the tales spoke of the first warriors to hunt down a herd of bilge snipe what had been terrorizing a distant village to the west. Frigga knit her brow and shut the book, sitting back in the chair and remembering that Odin had said that the boys intended to find one of the big, ugly things themselves. They were sure to be massive, the size of a horse if not larger, full of teeth and claws and scales and muscle. Certainly dangerous enough to kill ten well-armed men. That set her stomach to churning, ans the queen swept towards the window, set her hands against the windowsill and stared outside, hoped that they'd come rolling through the rain on horseback, laughing.   
  
They didn't, and she turned her back to the panes of glass with a sigh. They'd only been gone a few days, and, as much confidence as she had in them, it never got easier waiting for them to come back. These past few nights, she noted, had been increasingly lonely without Thor's laughter and Loki's wit.   
  
But they'd be home on the morrow. Of that she was certain. They'd come home, and they'd be just fine.


	10. Nobody's Hero

Though the rain had continued on long through the night, Thor had awakened at dusk, shook the others from their slumber, had pulled hooded cloaks from their bedrolls, and packed up their belongings. Fandral and Volstagg had run off to fetch the horses and the bilge snipe, and, upon their return, Thor and the others set to fastening their supplies and things to the saddles and mounting. Loki had openly complained at his brother's suggestion, insisting that he was not a child who needed to be looked after, and defiantly clambered up onto his own horse though it so obviously pained him. Irritated as his brother was, Thor didn't bother to argue.   
  
They rode though the darkest part of the night, and Thor lit up the sky with lightning so as to light their path, causing it to strike far off in the distance in rapid succession. He just hoped, however, that it wasn't hitting any buildings or people off on the eastern mountain range. It was a long ride, but when dawn finally began to peek through the clouds and the horses' hooves struck solid pavement, Thor had smiled, turned back to his companions and cheered with them. Except Loki who had lazily rolled his eyes.   
  
The bridge that led from the edge of the city to the palace was soaked with water and littered with small frogs and leaves. The amphibians croaked as Thor maneuvered his horse around them, not at all eager to step on their soft little bodies, and immediately panicked when he remembered that the bilge snipe was sure to crush them. Again, Loki said nothing, waved a hand and sent the frogs flying back into the water before slumping forward on his horse and closing his eyes again.   
  
Thor felt the sharp pang of guilt in his gut as their mother, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, waved to them from the steps of the palace, the light in her eyes matching that of her golden hair. The horses' hooves clacked hard and wet against the stones, and the beast beneath him snorted as Thor gave the reins a sharp tug, stepped off and seized Loki by his left arm, only realizing his mistake after the fact, lifting him off his own mount as he flinched.   
  
"Don't help me!" he snarled, giving Thor a shove that barely shifted him on his feet.   
  
The thunderer moved quickly away as their mother hurried down the steps, ignoring the water that was clinging to the hem of her gown. As the others dismounted, he set to moving the horses a bit closer to the palace, tugging the bilge snipe's corpse along behind. To keep busy, he unfastened their belongings from the saddles, holding them in his arms and rushing past his mother and brother, noting the absolutely miserable look on Loki's face as she began to fuss over him.   
  
"What happened?!" she exclaimed, hesitant to even touch him. The prince's stomach fell further, until, Thor imagined, it might actually fall  _out_  and sit in the muddy water. "Thor?"  
  
Stopping mid-stride, he turned his head slowly, noting the way Fandral snickered as his mother's eyes seemed to bore into him. With a hand, she motioned for him to come back, and Thor set their bedrolls on the steps and trudged back towards them like a child waiting to be punished.   
  
Fortunately, Sif gave the blond man a shove and directed him towards the steps, hissing that there was nothing funny about this, and insisted that he quit behaving badly and start carrying things inside. Fandral grimaced and pouted, muttering to himself as he went, giving Thor a passing glance as the others followed quickly behind.   
  
His blue eyes looked up once they had gone, knowing that, when his mother was done telling him to be more careful, he was  _really_ going get it from his father.   
  
"It was an accident!" he said, not knowing what else he could say. It had certainly been an accident, but it had still been his fault. If he hadn't decided to interfere, if he'd just let Loki and Fandral fight it out themselves, the Sons of Odin wouldn't have come so close to death. And his brother wouldn't still be beaten and angry at him. "I just–"  
  
"It's not his fault," Loki interrupted, avoiding eye contact with him. Frigga turned, a shocked expression upon her fair face. "Thor stopped the bastard. I... I provoked it. We made a bet, Brother insisted it was foolish, and I wouldn't listen..."  
  
Slack jawed, Thor could only stare, hope for a passing second that a fly wouldn't make its way into his open mouth as their mother shook her head, took Loki by the hand and began to quietly chastise him for being so daft. He made a face that Thor readily recognized, the one that they had used for years to silently imply that one of them owed the other, and said nothing as Frigga tugged him gently along, insisting that Loki was going to spend the remainder of the day in one of the healing rooms before ridding himself of the dirt and grime and blood with a hot bath.   
  
Feeling far worse than he had before, for Loki had made him out to be the hero, Thor sighed, took the line of horses by the reins and led them along the pathway that would take them to the stables. Hesitantly looking back at their kill, there was no way he was going to want the beast's head hanging on his wall now.  
  
He was nobody's hero.  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
He tensed as she sat beside him, forcing Loki's bandaged arm into her lap as she began to peel the strips of cloth away, talking quietly to herself about the good job that Sif had done to lather them with a salve and layer them. Though he didn't have quite the penchant for liquors that the others had, Loki found himself wishing that he were stone drunk, stuck listening to that gentle buzzing sound in his skull so he wouldn't have to feel any of this. Though he had told Thor that self-healing was a simple task, it wasn't. It was a pain, nearly as much as suffering through wounds like this. Small things, like broken fingers and cuts, were easy to deal with. Cracked ribs, on the other hand, were presently beyond his abilities. And that rankled.   
  
Frigga sighed and turned her head, motioning quickly to one of the healers as she entered the room, and looked back to Loki, raised a hand and brushed a smear of dirt off the side of his face.   
  
Unfortunately, the tending healer wasn't quite so gentle as his mother had been, eyeing him for a moment as the queen explained the damage, and quickly jabbing her hand into his bruised side. The prince threw his head back on the seat and made a sound in his throat that reminded him of a whimpering puppy. It was incredibly shameful.   
  
Thor was certain to feel the same shame for what had happened, though Loki didn't find any real pleasure in the thought. His mother moved to sit at his right as the healer began with removing the last of Sif's handiwork, laid his head against her shoulder and pulled her fingers through his hair. The trickster grimaced, knowing well the thin layer of filth that was sure to be sitting atop his skin, and wished, with everything he had, that he'd not encouraged Thor to go off on that fool venture; wished that he'd put a stop to the whole thing before it had ever even started. But, on the up side, his brother would surely think twice before darting off into the wilds or proposing that they go to one of the other realms.   
  
At least, Loki hoped so.   
  
The healer whispered quietly to herself, and Loki caught the back end of her sentence, nearly shocked enough to sit straight up as he heard something about thread and needles. He groaned. Of course, what with having combated a muscle-bound beast like a bilge snipe, there would be more damage than just broken bones and bruising. The woman hurried off then, calling for assistance as she rushed off down the hall to fetch more supplies.   
  
Only when she was gone did Frigga speak to him again.   
  
"You didn't bait that monster," she said knowingly. She'd seen right through his lie.   
  
"Father doesn't need to know that," he replied, having contented himself with the lecture he'd receive from the Allfather when he managed to round their group up again. It wouldn't do anything to nurse Loki's own dislike for the king's favoritism, but, at the very least, it would spare his brother the pain of having that disappointed glare directed at him. And that, Loki supposed, was good enough. "Besides, Thor needs Father's approval more than I do..."  
  
The queen gave him a look that insisted she knew otherwise, but smiled.   
  
"I was reading that book of yours last night," she told him, pulling a leaf from the folds of his clothing and tossing it into the fire. It burned up as though it had never been. "It's really–"  
  
"If it's all the same to you, Mother," he said, eyes cast into the flame, "I'd rather be alone."  
  
It seemed to take a moment for his words to sink in, for Frigga sat stone still, eventually murmuring a word of quiet acceptance before pulling him close and leaving a kiss on his cheek, whispering that she was proud of him. Loki said nothing, content with staring at the fire until she stood and left the room without another sound. He was not alone more than five minutes when the sound of footsteps echoed out in the hall, fading into nearly nothing as they approached the door and Loki rolled his eyes.   
  
She had not been standing too terribly far from the room.  
  
"Surely you heard all that," he remarked, looking towards the open door. "Do you not understand what it means to be  _alone_?"  
  
The woman scurried inside, glancing back over her shoulder as if in fear that she would be seen, and came to sit at his side, draping her arms about his shoulders. She said nothing, pursed her lips and looked at him with eyes that were pleading, asking that he not send her away.   
  
Loki muttered under his breath and Sigyn leaned forward, pressed her lips to his and pushed her taste into his mouth. Thor could never find out about this, the prince thought, for he'd never let it go. Though it was certain that, with what had been said on the mountain, his brother already knew a good deal about the pleasurable midnight escapades that Loki had been investing in.  
  
He winced, her hand coming to fall against his side, and pushed her away, doubling over and feeling light-headed.   
  
Sigyn made a face and huffed angrily, "He got you hurt again."  
  
Sweat on his brow, he frowned, shot her a nasty look from the corner of his eye. It was one thing for him to talk badly of Thor, as they were brothers, but for anyone else to speak so much as a word against him was unacceptable.   
  
Loki sat up. "What right do you have to come in here and speak ill of Thor? If that's why you've come, then you'd best get out. Get back to tending whatever duties you thought wise to neglect."   
  
She crossed her arms, turned her head away and send long, dark hair flying over her shoulder. "You say it all the time yourself," she replied with a snippy tone. "Always complaining about him, telling me what a blasted fool he is, how much you can't stand his stupidity."  
  
It didn't matter if she was only parroting his own words, that did it.   
  
The bowl that held the healer's salve fell to the floor then, the substance sticking to the leather of his boots as Loki seethed. He grabbed Sigyn by the arm with his good hand, lifted her from the bench and pushed her away.   
  
"Because he is  _my brother,_ " he shot back. "As such, it is my right to speak of him any way I damn well please."  
  
It didn't make sense and Loki knew as much, but refused to take back his words and allow her to think she could speak ill of Thor. He was an idiot, he was often stupid, and he didn't put nearly enough thought into major decisions the way he should have. Still, Thor had always had his back, and Loki wouldn't sit idly by and listen to some desperate wench spout that nonsense about him. Even if it was all true.   
  
She stared at him with wide eyes and said nothing, dark brows furrowing as she turned on her heel and swept out of the room, brushing past Frigga and the healers as she went.   
  
The queen stared.   
  
"What happened?" she asked, coming to ease Loki back into his seat.  
  
The prince leaned forward and scoffed, ignoring the healers as they called to someone to clean up the mess.   
  
"Nothing," he said. "Nothing..."


	11. Another Hole In The Head

"You've done it yet again," Sif said, walking down the rows of trees far faster than she needed to.   
  
She sat down beside him and Loki groaned, hoping that the sound would encourage her to get back up again and leave so he could finish his book. Really, it was all his mother would allow him to do at this point, what with having horrendous bruising, three broken ribs and an arm to match. The healers had taken hours to set the bones, after which he had been incredibly eager to get away. But Frigga had caught him, still shuddering and dripping with sweat, before he'd even made it out the door, insisting that there was to be no roughhousing and that he'd be taking it easy until she said otherwise.   
  
That had boiled his blood, and Loki was certain that Sif had come to find him at his mother's request. Keep an eye on him and all that.  
  
Of course, she'd been sending people to follow him for the past two days.   
  
And, since the day Thor had damaged the book, he hadn't gotten any further along with his reading, and started to think that he never would what with the pace at which everyone continued to interrupt him. Why, at this rate, Loki was certain that, after getting over his temper tantrum, the Allfather would come and find him, give him the tongue lashing that the old man thought he had coming. Loki dreaded that.   
  
The prince ignored her, tried to force himself to keep reading until the woman snatched the book from his hand and sat on it. He grimaced, knowing that he'd end up picking dirt out of the pages later.   
  
"Done what?" Loki muttered, staring up into the trees at the red apples. "Something that merits another beating from you, I take it."  
  
Sif didn't reply, got off the book and left it on the ground as she moved around to his left, taking him by the hand and lifting his arm to examine it.  
  
"Does it still hurt?"   
  
That was a stupid question. Of course it did. Why, it hadn't stopped since the healer had all but forced strips of balm-soaked cloth into the split flesh, pieced together another set of splints and wrapped the bandages so tightly that Loki had believed himself to have passed out on more than one occasion. That and the fact that, if he shifted even slightly, his head was shot through with sparks of pain. And, naturally, it had started bleeding all over again.   
  
Loki wanted to pull away, but didn't bother, knowing that it would hurt him far more than Sif, and decided to bear with it, wait until she'd grown bored of quietly undressing the wound so as to teach herself yet another technique for wrapping them herself. When she finally let go, Loki's head bumped against the bark of the apple tree.   
  
"You made Sigyn cry," she said, suddenly indignant, and looked as though she'd like to shove him. The trickster had never been more pleased with the fact that Thor's wild ventures had gotten him hurt.   
  
That wasn't news to him. Why, he'd made plenty of beautiful young women cry in his lifetime, namely those who had thought themselves something special because they'd had chance to lay with a prince of Asgard. Not to mention all the ones who had thrown themselves at him, followed him about at every daylight hour in hopes that they'd impress him with some boring facts copied right out of one of Loki's own books. So, the fact that he'd made Sigyn cry with his remarks wasn't anything new at all.   
  
And he didn't particularly care, either.   
  
"Are you expecting remorse?" he said, looking towards the book that lay abandoned to the right. The trickster grabbed it, tucked it behind his back so that Sif couldn't get it again. "You'd have better luck looking for it in the stables."  
  
Sif made an irritated sound, raised a hand and thumped him on the head.   
  
"You don't care?"  
  
"Why should I?" Loki glared back, thought to tell her that the woman had spoken ill of his brother, called him a stupid fool, and in no uncertain terms. But he held himself back. "Why do you? She's no friend to you, Sif. To my mother, perhaps, but not to you."  
  
The warrior gave him a strange look, her eyes widened in a way that expressed disbelief and suspicion.   
  
"To your mother," she repeated, and shook her head. "Is that all? Do you mean to tell me that, after all that's happened, Sigyn suddenly means nothing to you?"  
  
Loki moved away from her, fell flat on his back and groaned. He scrabbled backwards, kicking up dirt with his boots and easily leaving the book behind. Sif just stared after him, obviously disgusted.   
  
"It's none of your damned business!" he shouted, struggling to his feet. Loki swallowed. "You weren't there; you don't know what happened! So what right do you have to lecture me about hurting her precious little feelings, when you act without regard all the time?!"  
  
The woman's jaw dropped and she gasped, standing up and following after him as Loki darted between the trees. He didn't need this. Everyone else was already on his back already, telling him to be more careful, that he needed to take care of himself, and whatnot. And, when Odin found out that he'd made the wench run off in tears, likely to his mother, the king would berate him as well on just how it was he treated women. Which, in Loki's opinion, wasn't horrid. He just didn't discriminate between which sex he chewed out when they deserved it.   
  
"When did this become about me?!" she shouted after him, her steps picking up speed as he started to run. "This is about what you said to her! What she said to make you act like this!"  
  
Loki skidded to a stop, turned and caught her shoulder with his right hand as she drew closer, pushing her back a few steps. Sif looked riled up and about ready to punch him in the nose.   
  
"You women are all the same!" he snarled and advanced on her. Sif stood her ground and leered up at him. "You think you can say what you want; that, if it doesn't work out to your advantage, you can just...  _cry_  and expect it all to go away!"  
  
"So, because you're angry with Sigyn, you're taking it out on me?!"  
  
He shrugged, looked at her as though it were obvious. "Well, you're here, aren't you?"  
  
Sif struck him in the face then, stormed angrily away and left Loki to sit in the dirt, lick blood from his lip.   
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
"You are both fools!" Odin roared, slamming the butt of the spear against the floor.   
  
Thor had been sent to find his brother nearly an hour before, had run through the halls and across the palace grounds without so much as a hair to be found. He'd even ventured out to the field behind the stables where the steep hill lay, the one that was nearly a straight drop down into the lake. He hadn't been there, either. Of course, the very last place he had thought to look had been the orchards, and there Loki had been, lying in the dirt and groaning about the hell Sif was going to pay for hitting him. Though it had been horribly inappropriate, Thor had chuckled quietly to himself as he thought about what his brother must have said to have warranted a heavy nosebleed.   
  
They had hurried back to the throne room, found that their father had taken to having lunch, and had discovered the graying king in the dining hall, nursing his temper over a goblet of ale. And, the instant the two had entered, Loki still with smears of blood on his face, Odin had thrown the thing at them, causing it to smack hard into the wall above their heads and scatter the drink across the floor.   
  
He now stormed from one end of the room to the other, growling at the pair about their foolish antics, easily referencing the fact that Loki had nearly been killed and that he hadn't the skill with which to hunt or fight bilge snipe to begin with. Thor felt the rage radiating from his brother, now humiliated twice in a day, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Loki was shaking.   
  
The thunderer stepped forward, golden brows curving to meet the bridge of his nose as his mouth twisted into a thin line. He was going to tell their father otherwise, that he was wrong about his brother, that he was always wrong and that, even as king, he had no right to speak that way about Loki.   
  
Odin's back was still turned to them as Thor felt himself being pulled back, Loki's hand having closed around his wrist and giving him a solid yank. His pale eyes demanded that Thor step back, that he put that foolishness out of his head and mind his tongue. He'd get them both into more trouble, his brother's expression said. For, if Thor were to start shouting, Odin would shout right back, and, to uphold their unspoken agreement, Loki would intervene and get the brunt of both their vile tempers.   
  
"What have you to say for yourselves?!" the Allfather roared, turning around just as Thor took his place beside his brother. "Well?!"  
  
Thor said nothing, bit his lip and acknowledged that Loki was right; that riding out the storm was better than trying to charge through it. But, when the king stalked towards them, stared down at the two with that iron eye, Thor nearly lost it.   
  
"Speak!"  
  
Loki straightened, the tip of his tongue wiping away more of the blood that had nearly dried upon his lip, and scowled as he took a step forward. Thor was a bit surprised to see them so close, to know that Loki, while still smaller than him, was still taller than their father.   
  
Thor stood up and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Loki..."  
  
The God of Mischief said nothing, looked the Allfather right in the eye and scoffed, pulled out of Thor's grasp and turned on his heel to exit the room. Odin looked outraged.   
  
"Don't you walk away from me, boy!" he bellowed, and Loki stopped, turned and flung the empty goblet back at the man, which Odin caught easily.   
  
"Nothing I do is right by your standards!" Thor stared, head spinning and wondering if there could have been a way for this to be avoided. "I've tried to prove myself to you time and again, and nothing is good enough! You favor him!" The thunderer's eyes widened, for he had never thought that Loki would dare to say that to their father. "Everything he does is gold to you, and the moment  _anything_  goes wrong, you assume it all to be  _my_  doing!"  
  
Odin looked taken aback at this, and had retreated a step, eye wide and anger lost. He frowned. "What are you–"  
  
"Do you really think I'd be so stupid as to court death like that?! Play games with a monster and do  _this_  to myself?!"   
  
Thor felt his heart sink. It didn't bother him that Loki was outing him for his foolishness. He'd wanted to speak up in the first place, but didn't. He'd allowed his brother to protect him. Which is exactly what Thor had failed to do.   
  
It seemed to dawn on their father what had happened, who was really at fault, as he made a face, that of thought, and turned away. Thor looked between the two, surged forward and grabbed Loki, stopped him before he could do something stupid himself.   
  
"Enough," he whispered, fastened an arm about his brother's waist, and pulled.   
  
Behind them, the door opened as their mother rushed in, like to have heard the shouting from the hallway. She looked to them and then across the room to Odin, and the only sound Thor could hear was the heavy, fearful beating of his own heart. He should have said something when they had come home; should have made sure that his father knew that all the journey's troubles had been his doing. Because he was too damn stubborn to listen to his brother's reason.   
  
Thor tugged Loki out into the hallway, opened his mouth to tell him that it was best to let this die. But he was shoved away, and Loki disappeared the way he always did when angry enough, and left Thor to stand in the open doorway as his mother skirted across the wide room to the king.   
  
And Thor knew now that, with what had been said, his father and brother would not be speaking for a very long time.


	12. Adrift In A Sea

By his last count of the days, Thor found that his father and brother had not spoken to one another in nearly two months. Nor, as he soon came to realize, had Loki said a word to Sif.   
  
He sat by the lakeside with her, fishing poles clasped in their hands as they waited with much boredom for something to take hold of the bait. They had not talked much either, though they had spent the entirety of the day in one another's company. The day had been hot, the sun bright and causing that bizarre sound, which Thor thought to be cicadas, to hum consistently through the air. Even with his boots kicked off and bare feet hanging in the water, he was seriously overheated, and thought that, if the fish did not show up within the next ten minutes, he was going to hop into the lake and go hand fishing himself.   
  
"Damn," Sif muttered, and threw her pole towards his boots up the hill. "I've had it with this."   
  
And, the second the words left her mouth, the woman leaned forward and dropped herself into the water, splashing Thor as she went. She surfaced not long after, wiping the moisture from her eyes and floating on her back. The thunderer followed, and, having left his armor with the rest of their things, jumped in and dove under.   
  
It was strange to him, peering through the water with his blue eyes, realizing that it was not nearly as clear as it had seemed all those years ago. That made him wonder if the lake had somehow managed to age as he and his friends did. He felt Sif's hand on his head, tapping him with her fingers, and Thor surfaced, feeling much better as he followed her through the water, the two of them swimming towards the shade that sat on the east side of the palace. As they drew closer, Thor looked up to the balcony of the library, surprised to see that his brother sat there, hunched over with one hand holding up his head while the other held tightly to that same book he'd been trying to finish for weeks. Something about the history of Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms, if he remembered correctly.   
  
Diving down, Thor plucked a rock from the soft sand, pushed himself further along through the water, raised his arm and threw the thing as hard as he could. He missed and scowled, hoping to finally pull a smile from Loki if he could, and repeated the process three times more until he at last pegged his brother in the back. He saw Loki wince, drop the book to the floor and spin around, peering down into the water as Thor and Sif ducked beneath it, peering through the rippling surface until the trickster shook his head and looked away.   
  
"Fool!" Sif whispered as he surfaced again. "Are you trying to make him mad?"  
  
Thor stuck out his lip, noting the disdain in her voice that Sif had tried to mask with urgency. She didn't fear Loki at all, not even when his temper was at its worst. In fact, she had laughed in his face on more than one occasion, insisting that his right eye would start to twitch when he was angry. Thor had never said anything about it to his brother, but it was true. He'd seen it plenty of times.   
  
"You just don't want to talk to him," he replied. "You don't want to have to apologize for punching him again."  
  
Sif crossed her arms. "I've never apologized to him," she said, matter-of-factly.  
  
"Then you should start," he said, leaving no room for argument in his tone, and took another small stone in hand and flung it, this time hitting Loki square in the back of the head. Thor hoped that, were he to get his brother's attention, he could convince him to end at least a part of this childishness and talk to Sif.  
  
Thor hurried back towards the bank as his brother toppled on the balcony, waving his arms and eventually losing his balance, falling backwards off and into the lake. Sif's eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she looked from Thor to Loki's point of entry, and quickly dove beneath the water and moved right past him, disappearing from sight as the trickster promptly pulled his head up and sputtered.   
  
 _"Thor!"_  he yelled, swiping water out of his eyes, and the thunderer stood still as Loki turned, knowing that he'd been seen. He smiled sheepishly, trying to hide any hint of laughter that might try to escape from him. Loki growled. "What in the hell was that for?!"  
  
"You're not bleeding, are you?" Thor inquired, grabbing Loki by the arm and patting the back of his head. His hand was slapped away. "You appear whole and well."  
  
His brother made a face. "Right, because being whacked in the head with a damn stone and falling fifty feet into a lake certainly isn't hazardous to one's health," he muttered, dripping with sarcasm. He shoved Thor in the chest. "Idiot."  
  
Thor cupped a hand and threw the water at Loki who, if they weren't in the lake, probably would have kicked him. Instead, his brother took a wild swing and Thor flipped more water into his face, dancing back and out of reach. He laughed, still trying to provoke a smile from the other, hoping that the foolishness of all this would be enough. But even as Loki swam after him, muttering under his breath, there was nothing in his eyes but that irritation.   
  
Biting the inside of his cheek, Thor tugged himself up onto the bank, watching as his brother finally gave in, falling face first into the lake and allowing it to carry him. Once in reach, Thor leaned forward and grabbed him by the arm, pulled him up and onto the dirt and grass, deciding not to tell his brother that he was going to have to pick the stuff out of his hair, as he didn't think Loki really cared at this point.   
  
The trickster swore as Thor let him go, slamming the heels of his hands against the dirt.   
  
"What is it?" he asked, and felt his eyes widen. When the stone had hit his brother, the book had flipped back into the lake as well. Thor felt a nasty taste in his mouth as Loki stared at him. "I–"  
  
"Oh, never mind," the trickster huffed. "You were bound to ruin it sooner or later. Besides," he rolled over, sat up beside Thor. "I'll find another one."   
  
The sun soon set to drying them out, and Thor took to wiping away the dirt that stuck to his brother's forehead. He crossed his ankles, hunched over and tried in vain to count the trees that stuck to the side of the mountain. After hitting four hundred, he stopped, leaned back on the bank and wished things could always be like this. Thor had had these thoughts before as a child, almost daily, hoping that their world would never have to change. That he, his brother, and their friends could always be together, always go off on wild adventures and play their games without a care as to what the future would hold. But, he would admit, just living life the same way day after day would become rather boring after a time.  
  
"You still want me to talk to her, don't you?"  
  
Thor's head turned to watch as Loki picked up a leaf, shaped it with his fingers and set it on the surface of the water, breathing magic into it and forcing the thing to hold, to set off as though it were a ship at sea. He grinned, blew on it, spun miniature waves around the little boat, watched as it rocked back and forth. If Loki conjured clouds to hover above it, Thor decided he would gladly provide sparks.   
  
"Of course, I do," he replied, and watched as water rose up, crashed down upon the ship and returned it to its flattened state as a leaf.   
  
The fun was clearly done with.  
  
Loki huffed, stood up and scratched his head. "If I do, will you put playing peacekeeper out of your head?"   
  
He was talking about his lack of conversation with their father.   
  
Thor hesitated. He wanted so badly for them all to get along, for their days to be full of nothing but joy and laughter. But, if this was what it took for Loki to make his peace with Sif, then he would accept. After all, he still needed time to figure out how to quell his father's raging temper.   
  
The thunderer nodded. "I will."  
  
Loki smiled wryly. "No, you won't," he said, and turned to walk away.   
  
"Will you still talk to her?" Thor hollered after him, now standing up. "Brother?"  
  
All he received was a sideways glance and that crooked grin. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Thor. Everything will be taken care of."


	13. The Damage Inflicted

Thor's jaw nearly tumbled off three days later when he found out what his brother had meant when he'd said that "everything will be taken care of." He sat at table, ale forgotten in the goblet and silverware clattering from his hands to the floor. Volstagg, who had likely run the whole way from Sif's abode, dripped with sweat, face rosy as he panted heavily. The words had tumbled from the bearded man's lips like a waterfall, spilling across the polished wood and sweeping the prince's plate briskly away.   
  
Several times he blinked, shook his head in hopes that he still had water in his ears from when he'd gone swimming before. Thor couldn't believe it,  _wouldn't_  believe it. No, neither of those were right. He  _refused_  to believe the words spoken to him by one of his truest friends, those of the mischief his brother had only just engaged in, perhaps the night before.   
  
He'd been foolish not to notice that the look on Loki's face, as he trekked back to the palace, had been one that did not belong in civilized conversation. Thor had not noticed that there had been a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut, having dismissed it as little more than too much time in the lake following a meal. When, in fact, it had been his body's way of warning him that Loki was, once again, up to no good.   
  
The chair scraped against the floor, tipping back and onto its side as Thor jumped to his feet, followed Volstagg through the halls with urgent eyes. Outside, their horses waited, and Thor charged onto his, but his friend took him by the arm.  
  
"She will not see anyone," the warrior told him, looking grim. "We have tried since yesterday, but she's not yet come out. I have my doubts that she'll listen to you, either."  
  
Thor ignored him, spurred it on and forced it to run until he finally came upon Sif's abode. The window to her room was shut tight, he noticed, and stood up on the saddle, lifted himself high and onto the railing of her balcony. He rapped on the glass, received a quiet but distinct "Go away!" before taking to prying the lock open with his hands. It rattled a bit, and footsteps came from inside, the window opening suddenly and knocking Thor off his feet. Sif glowered at him from beneath her hood, which she had pinched shut with one hand at the bottom. She looked as though she'd been crying.   
  
On his knees, Thor grabbed her by the hand, shook her gently as he felt his eyes grow wide. What had happened to her, he thought? What had his brother done to cause her such distress? He silently asked for entry, and Sif turned away, causing Thor to follow, though he stayed perched on the windowsill.  
  
"If you do not kill him, then I will!" she snapped, kicked a book across the room. Thor said nothing. "I swear it! I care not who or what he is! Prince of Asgard or even a snake!"  
  
The thunderer bit his lip, decided that her words were that of hurt, that, were Sif in her right mind, she would not say those things about his brother. Her friend. Thor leaned forward, touched her shoulder, and turned the woman gently around. She still clung to the bottom of her hood.   
  
"Show me," he said, pleading with his eyes, and Sif stiffened. "I cannot do a thing for you if I do not see for myself. Please."  
  
She pushed him back, caused Thor to teeter on the windowsill, and turned, pursed her lips tightly and pulled away the hood. The prince said nothing, knowing just how ashamed she was of the whole ordeal. Sif's hair, once gold and beautiful like stalks of wheat in the sun, was now cut off, a dark color, almost black, like the barks of the pines in the middle of a storm. It all made him furious.   
  
Thor scowled, climbed back out the window and jumped to the ground. He climbed up onto his horse, shouted at the beast to get on even as Sif stared after him.   
  
He was going to get to the bottom of this.  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
Loki was satisfied, twirling the blade between his fingers, leering at the straw dummy with a smirk. Were it a man, he would be dead a hundred times over by now, clothing cut into so many strips that they hung off his body, blood seeping deep into the ground with each passing second. Of course, a still target was never a fun one, and the prince had quite happily bewitched the thing to move before he'd gone and incapacitated it. What with no legs below the knee, and a lack of a hand and several fingers, it couldn't very well run and try to fight back.   
  
Though it had since healed, Loki hadn't chanced to throw a blade with his left in weeks. He drew back, scoffed as the thing twitched again, and let it fly, burying the point deep into the dummy's straw skull, forcing what magic he'd lent out to come zipping back into his fingertips.   
  
Sadly, the glee was short-lived, as he could hear the sound of thundering hooves on the pavement behind. The smile disappeared, and Thor's voice chimed loud behind him.  
  
"Why would you do such a thing?!" he howled, and hopped the low fence into the training ring.   
  
Loki looked at him with a sideways glance, pulled the knives on the ground through the air so that they hung, and touched one as though it were little more than decoration. The prince smiled, ignored his brother's erratic pacing, at least until it began to kick up dirt, and flung another blade through the straw.  
  
"What ever are you talking about?" he replied, and pointed at the dummy, forced the thing to piece itself together again, take up a stance and try to grab him.   
  
The trickster stepped back, snickering as the figure slid across the ground, tried to take his feet out from beneath him. His boot came down, caught the knee of the dummy beneath the heel, and imagined that, were this a man, he wouldn't be getting up again anytime soon. That pleased Loki, and he raised an arm, eager to drive a knife into its head again, but flinched as Thor grabbed him from behind, causing the spell to unravel.  
  
The God of Thunder promptly set to shaking Loki like a rag doll. "Do not play games with me, Brother! Why?! Why did you do it?!"  
  
Loki scowled, stiffened and leaned forward, caused Thor to fly over his shoulders. His brother's back struck the ground hard, and Thor's grip loosened enough for him to pull free, hop back and onto the fence. It didn't matter if this kept Thor down for no more than a few seconds, for Loki was faster, smarter, could conjure a hundred ways to use this bit of terrain to his advantage in the time that his brother lay struggling for breath.   
  
He blinked, breath caught in his throat as Thor's hand grabbed him by the hair, twisted until Loki's face touched the dirt. The trickster sputtered, spat as Thor's face appeared beside his.  
  
"Tell me!!"  
  
The prince of lies frowned, didn't bother to try and free himself from Thor's grasp this time. He wasn't interested in missing bits of his hair. Not even in small quantities. "I did it for you!" he huffed, blowing dirt into Thor's nose.  
  
The God of Thunder lifted him up then, held him in the air a moment before letting go. Loki fell hard on his backside then, listening to his brother's heavy, frustrated breaths, and drew his knees to his chest. The thunderer hovered over him, waiting eagerly for further elaboration as he began pacing around Loki in a crazed circle.   
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You're foolish, Thor," he said, looking quietly at the studs that lined his sleeve. "Oblivious to half of what goes on around you, you wouldn't know a fly had gone up your nose until you sneezed." Loki chanced a glance upwards, saw Thor's eyes smoldering, and brought his own back down. "You don't see the way she looks at you, Brother... She loves you..."  
  
That seemed to take his brother by surprise, as Thor took to fidgeting, eventually moving to drag the limp dummy from the ground and pull bits of straw from its arms. They didn't look at one another for several minutes, though Loki was sure that Thor's mouth opened more than just once.   
  
It was all true, though most were certain to not believe it. Thor was utterly daft, had never seen the longing way women looked at him until they had come to voice their desires to him, had taken to gently touching his hand or offering up some other means of communicating with the fool. Only then would his eyes widen, light up like a child who had seen his first morning full of snow, turn to the others and inquire if the woman in question had just been openly flirting with him.  
  
So, of course Thor hadn't known how the Lady Sif felt for him, hadn't seen it. But Loki wasn't known among their motley crew as a trickster, even a snake, for nothing. Every detail was vital.  
  
"Sif  _loves_ –"  
  
"You're not that stupid, Thor!" Loki shouted at him. "Do not make me regret telling people such!"  
  
Thor frowned, ripped the arm off the dummy and shoved it at him. "I don't care! That is not how you do things, Brother! You do not harm the ones you love, the ones you call friends, just to prove a point! You ought know this by now! Or was your mind so badly rattled from that fight with the–"  
  
"There is nothing wrong with my mind, you idiot!" Loki stood and kicked him, knowing it wouldn't do any good.   
  
"Then why would you–"  
  
"I already told you! I did it for you, for her! So you'd stop looking at your feet and  _notice her_! See that she trusts you, loves you more than any other! More than any of us!" His fingers curled around the knife before tossing it to the ground. He spun on his heel, hopped the fence and looked away. "I did for you, you damn idiot..."


	14. Song Of The Caged Bird

Fandral sneered, turned and backhanded a glass across the table, caused it to clatter to the floor as he paced madly, and Thor thought that, at any time now, they'd be dragging the seething man to his rooms to rest and collect himself. What with his crazed circles, he was like to end up light-headed, cough up his meal, and spend the rest of the day complaining about it. Which was just one more thing that the prince didn't want to hear about. Already, the afternoon had consisted of listening to his friends grumble to one another about how Loki had gone too far this time.   
  
It had been one thing, Hogun had said, for the trickster to unleash a mass of snakes in the stables and spook the horses, but this was a whole other matter. And it wasn't funny.  
  
Thor leaned forward, pounded his forehead on the table, rattling the dishes as the others ate, chattering among themselves and all but ignoring him. He preferred it, actually, not being brought into the conversation that would only serve to make him angrier. He'd very nearly pounded his brother into dirt, dragged him to Sif's door and forced him to his knees. Pranks were all well and good, but to _cut_  the woman's  _hair._  Thor still couldn't quite wrap his head around it.   
  
His brother's words echoed in his head, that Loki had done it for the both of them, he and Sif, as a means to prod Thor forward, urge him to take notice of the supposedly obvious way she always looked at him. She was sweet on him, this much was sure. Sif would certainly push him, fight with him as she did with the others, always had, but Thor could not think of a time when she had been sincerely angry with him, or let her irritation with his foolishness last for more than just a day. Their friends, on the other hand, had not been quite so fortunate.   
  
Now, with this latest antagonistic act, Thor began to fear that things among their motley crew would never be the same again. Particularly between his brother and Sif.  
  
He pushed off the table, ignored Volstagg as the man called after him, "Where are you going?" It was the first time in the past two hours that a one of them had actually addressed Thor directly.   
  
Something had to be done about this, Thor decided walking out of the dining hall, to right the wrong. For now, he would sleep on it, and perhaps find the answer in the dark.   
  
But, for the moment, Thor had an idea.  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
Still half-asleep, Loki yawned and opened his eyes the next morning just in time to see the ceiling as it moved hurriedly above his head, leaned back and saw Thor as he dragged the trickster through the palace, much to the surprise of the servants. Apparently, he'd been yanked right out of bed. Twisting, Loki shouted at him, demanded that Thor take him back to his room as he wasn't dressed for whatever madness he had planned in that head of his. But the thunderer said nothing, made no move to turn back, and continued tugging Loki along behind him by the collar of his tunic.  
  
Once again, this was not the proper way to wake someone up. A lesson which Thor seemed to be failing miserably. First the ordeal in the woods, and now this. Clearly, Loki would have to find some way of ensuring that his dear brother came to understand that raucous noise, buckets of water, kicks to the chest, and dragging people out of bed were all examples of things that one was  _not_ supposed to do.   
  
Light flashed in his eyes from the morning sun, and Loki grimaced, managed to wrench himself out of Thor's grasp halfway down a set of stairs. His head fell back, smacked the point of a step and he writhed, growling as the God of Thunder tugged him to his feet.   
  
"Up," came the command, and Thor fastened his arm to Loki's sleeve, pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs and into the garden.   
  
"What are you doing?!" Loki snapped, and shoved his brother away. Stumbling back, Thor looked ready to tackle him.  
  
Instead, Thor said nothing and sneered, grabbed him again and set to dragging him around once more. At least, this time, he was on his feet, and not being towed behind Thor like an animal after the kill. This was ridiculous, he thought, forced to follow his brother about like a naughty child, wondering what manner of punishment awaited him. In order to irritate him, Loki had a mind to ask Thor what this was all about, just so he could have the pleasure of watching the thunderer's face contort the way it always did. It would likely be even funnier given the severity of the situation. But, just as Loki smiled at that, Thor stopped by the fountain, thumped him in the back of the head, growled that he stay put, and disappeared behind the rose bushes.   
  
Loki sighed, sat on the edge of the fountain and watched the fish as they tried to swim against the stream of water. They were just illusions, but his mother had grown so fond of them that he'd just let them be. They were also easier to take care of than real fish, not requiring any special attention or sustenance, but, noting how tiny flakes of food hovered on the surface, it seemed that Frigga had developed a habit of feeding them anyway.   
  
The bushes rustled and Thor stepped out, his back to Loki as thorns and leaves stuck to his blond hair, his voice dropped to a whisper. He wouldn't have cared otherwise, but seeing how his brother kept looking back at him over his shoulder, the trickster was suddenly interested in what he was saying, wondering if it was some manner of secret. Thor stomped a foot, hissed through the dark leaves and made a face, reaching inside and tugging on a hand that Loki immediately recognized as Sif's. He frowned, leaned back to lay down on the low fountain wall, hand dangling in the water as the fish brushed against his fingertips. So that's what Thor's game was. This didn't have anything to do with the thunder god beating him into submission. It was about trying to make Sif feel better.   
  
When the woman finally trailed behind him, she clung to her hood, glared at him beneath its shadow. Loki smiled, though he was a bit disappointed. Her face wasn't red as it had been previously reported, and she wasn't crying. Sif was angry, probably wanted to kick him the way she had as a girl. And, as Thor pulled her closer to the fountain, Loki thought that she might.   
  
Thor let go of her hand, moved to Loki's side and yanked him to his feet, smacking him in the head again, probably for good measure. Sif didn't smile.   
  
"What have you to say for yourself?" the thunderer demanded.   
  
Loki scowled, looked quietly at Sif and noted that she didn't want this any more than he did. She'd probably prefer being locked up in her private chambers, imagining ways to humiliate and get back at him. Her eyes looked empty, distant, as though she were thinking on such things already. The trickster wouldn't say anything, but the thought was bothersome. He didn't want to know what she would come up with.   
  
Thor shoved him again, and he sighed.   
  
"Please, stop," he said monotonously, sporting a mocking look on his face. "It's hard to say anything through the haze of bitter tears."  
  
Sif's eyes narrowed and Thor growled.   
  
"Apologize!" he snapped, and Loki turned, pushed Thor away.   
  
"Why?! For doing you a favor?!" The trickster looked between them. "Both of you?! At least now you can look at each other! So don't act like I'm the villain of the piece!" Loki smirked. "And at least Sif looks like the boy she's always tried to be."   
  
The woman lunged forward, grabbed him by the wrist and shoved him at the shoulder, pushing the prince until the backs of his knees bumped against the low fountain wall, sending him toppling into the water. Loki sat up and sputtered, knotted fingers in his sleeves and shuddered. It didn't matter if the sun was up and out, he was still freezing.   
  
Loki glowered up at her, failed to see the shock in Thor's eye as he looked between them, and watched bitterly as Sif turned on her heel, placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, and walked briskly away.   
  
"You should have just apologized." The thunderer shook his head. "And you say  _I'm_  the idiot..."  
  
The trickster said nothing as Thor looked over his shoulder and hurried after her, not bothering to stop as their mother swept through the garden, stared with mouth agape as Loki climbed out of the fountain.   
  
"Why are you all wet?" she said, surprised. "And why aren't you dressed?"  
  
Loki clenched his teeth and said nothing.


	15. The Rift

They had not spoken in several weeks, which had been fine by Loki, but it seemed that news of his latest scheme had been what the Allfather needed to break that wonderful silence that flitted about between them. As soon as his mother had finished doting over him, drying him off and ushering him back to his room to dress himself properly, the old man had called him to his study. Now, Odin paced back and forth, and Loki saw fit to stare at the head of the bilge snipe that had been mounted on the wall, even with half of an antler missing. He suddenly found himself wishing that he'd been the one to cut the head from its body, tear the eyes from its skull and replace them with lifeless marbles after what the stupid bastard had done to him.   
  
Why, he hadn't even been able to give the thing a good kick.   
  
The king's gaze turned to him, full of coal and fire as smoke seemed about ready to float out of his mouth and nose at any minute. Loki hoped it would. That would give this whole situation a bit of humor.   
  
"Why would you do such a fool thing?!" the Allfather raged. He turned on Loki, ignored that which he had knocked to the floor, and growled. "Do you not claim to be a man, son?!" That was quite the bite, but Loki grimaced and said nothing. "Then why do you act as a child would?!"  
  
There was little point in defending his actions to Odin. He was king, as the old man had a habit of pointing out, and, being stubborn as he was, would not be listening to reason nor truth any time soon. Particularly if it came from his second born. So Loki would take the tongue lashing given to him, hold his own and make no argument. That way, at least, the storm that was his father's temper wouldn't get any worse.   
  
The writing table rattled, and the prince thought that the legs might give way at any moment, splinter and send the rest of the king's papers and inkwell to the floor as well.   
  
He pursed his lips, openly defiant, and remained silent, taking a strange sort of pleasure in the fact that Odin was growing steadily more irritated. The king wanted him to say something, to try and justify himself so that this could turn into more of a lecture than a one-sided rant on the foolishness of children. Loki bit his lip, eyes downcast to the floor as Odin approached, stood before him with that piercing stare.   
  
"You are satisfied with this game of yours, are you not?" the king said, tone still strained.   
  
That got Loki to thinking again, remembering how miserable Sif had been when she looked at him, knowing that he'd finally done something terrible enough to get under her skin. She'd looked as though her day had been spent trying not to cry, building herself up so that she could take to Thor's advice and face him without showing her fragility, try and prove to him that his actions hadn't had any affect on her or how Sif saw herself. But it had, and she had failed miserably with her charade.   
  
Loki didn't realize that he'd been smiling until Odin's hand briskly wiped the grin right off his face.   
  
"I do not want to hear of this nonsense again," the Allfather said, and waved him away. "Now, I want this taken care of. Immediately."  
  
Suddenly finding himself in the hall with the door closing behind him, it was as though he had never been in the room. AS though the conversation had never even occurred. But Loki could still feel the indent of his teeth in his lip, and the sting on the side of his face.   
  
What a way to break the silence.  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
They were so far distanced from one another now, his brother and their friends, that it bothered Thor to see, in the days and weeks that followed, that the warriors did not speak of him, did not make effort to usher him back into their flock. Rather, they'd been going well out of their way to ignore Loki, and it was worrisome that the trickster seemed perfectly content to stand off to the side, mind his own business until they passed by, and leer after them.   
  
Thor himself had started to drift away from them as well, even as Sif had returned to them, grown her now dark hair long enough to still tie it back. He said little to them himself, having since grown tired of their idle chatter, that which, for the most part, had to do with finding things to occupy their time, or discussing their newfound contempt for his brother. So, Thor had busied himself with wandering about the palace, riding his horse idly about the fields, and, sometimes, following Loki from a distance, though his brother, saying nothing, was sure to know that he was there.   
  
The morrow would be the start of the ninth month, Autumn would soon be settling upon Asgard, and Thor had taken to hurrying after his now isolated brother as he'd run off to the seaside. There was really no place for him to hide on the shore, for there was only sand and shells and seagulls that picked at snails and washed up fish, so Thor stood openly beside his horse, watched Loki settle down and stare out across the water. His brother had had many hiding places over the years, so many that Thor was still certain that he had not found all of them. But this one, his perch in the sand beside the old, unused dock, seemed to be one of the favorites. So much so that, after a while, Thor had begun to think that the imprint of Loki's hands in the sand would linger as though they'd been pressed into the pavement of the streets.   
  
"Do you still want to run away?" Thor said, having finally plucked up enough courage to trudge through the sand.   
  
Loki didn't turn, didn't acknowledge him at all even as he sat down and threw an arm about his shoulders. He didn't like that everything had changed so quickly, that he had failed to fix it all. But, Thor suspected that, even if his brother had properly apologized, it would have still taken Sif some time to truly forgive him, and that the others wouldn't have been so quick to welcome him back either.   
  
"Stop being such a sap," Loki told him. "I'm not crying. Haven't in years, you know that."  
  
Thor almost wished that, for once, he would break down and let all that frustration go, set it free in the tides or in the froth of the fast-paced river.   
  
The sand was still warm from the heat of the day, and Thor tugged the cloak from his shoulders, draped it over Loki as he slumped forward. If they were still sitting in the palace having lessons each morning, Thor would have thought that his brother had grown bored and decided to fall asleep at his writing table.   
  
He shrugged. "Maybe you should."  
  
Loki gave him a genuinely stunned look, let sand slip through his fingers and leaned into Thor's shoulder with a frown.  
  
"It's your fault, too," he said. "If you weren't so caught up in war and silly contests, maybe you would have noticed the way she looks at you." A sigh. "I'm sorry..." Thor smiled and patted him on the head the way he used to. "But I did it for you..."  
  
It had taken some serious thinking on his part to even attempt to understand his brother's logic. But, if all was as he claimed, if Sif had always held some alternate manner of affection for him, then how could he not have noticed? They had grown up together, had been nearly as close as himself and Loki, had spent the days arguing about petty things and cramming food into one another's faces at parties when their parents had not been looking. So how, after all this time, had he not seen it? And how had Loki been able to?  
  
His eyes widened then, taking in the light of the sunset as it cast orange and pink shades about their skin, and moved to his brother. This wasn't just about himself and Sif. It never had been. Loki had, somehow, played a part in the whole of their strange little dance all these years, had been the only one to see with objectivity while being steadily pushed out of the circle. That left a lump in Thor's throat that he could not swallow.   
  
His lips parted, eager to ask the burning question that thrummed through his skull, for he wanted to know if that malicious act had been out of something more than for his benefit and his brother's growing disdain for the woman, but Loki's words beat him out.   
  
"You will be king," he said plainly, and Thor felt his stomach drop. He didn't like hearing talk of that sort. Nothing was set in stone as of yet. "We both know that Father adores you." A sigh and a sideways smirk. "And, as rumor has it, he has plans to present the mighty God of Thunder with a gift for his valiance. For saving his liar brother once again..."  
  
Thor scooped up a handful of dirt and dropped it on Loki's head. He fell back, not smiling as he would have ordinarily, watching as his brother shot to his feet and tried to shake the stuff from his hair as he growled.   
  
"Why did you do that?!"   
  
The prince stood up, kicked at the sand with a boot. "Because you're being stupid," he said, and Loki spat at him.   
  
"It's true, isn't it?" He leered at Thor, pointed over his shoulder towards the palace. "They all believe it! All of them! They talk behind our backs, you know. The servants, the citizens. Have nothing but good to say about you. Meanwhile, I'm the back end of all their jokes!"  
  
"But you're–"  
  
"I know what I am, Thor! I know I'm a liar, the bane of Asgard's existence!" Loki sat down again, flopped back into the sand, gathering it in his hair again. "But, if there's no one else... I'm glad you're the one who understands me."  
  
Thor sighed, bent down and pulled a shell from the sand and threw it out across the water, watching as it sank.   
  
"I will not be king," he said, and Loki, still not moving, looked at him.  
  
"What will you be then? The hero? The one who rides off in search of–"  
  
"I will be your brother." Thor smiled faintly. "That's all."  
  
Loki pursed his lips, almost as if to fight off a smile. He was likely playing at being angry. "And if I say that I have no brother?"  
  
A shrug. "Then I will just be Thor."  
  
That broke him then, that grin sweeping across Loki's face as the thunderer lay down beside him in the sand. The tide would soon reach them, cause them to itch and smell of sea salt, but it didn't matter. They couldn't be bothered to care.   
  
Thor reached over, brushed the white grains away from his brother's face as his eyes closed.   
  
"Loki?"  
  
"Mm?"  
  
His other hand clawed at the earth, leaving marks where his fingers had been. "Do you love me?"  
  
"What kind of fool question is that?" The waves made their advance upon them, and Thor could almost feel the foam graze the ends of his hair as he waited with bated breath. Loki looked at him. "Of course I do. You're my brother."  
  
"Would you die for me?"   
  
So many times they'd run off together without a word to their parents, their friends, had limped home bloody and beaten and so near death. It had always scared Thor, though he had not yet admitted it, to think that, one of these times, he or Loki would return home alone, dragging a lifeless corpse behind. And yet, there was a strange sort of comfort in that fact, to know that, were he to return, his brother would have died to save his life.   
  
"A thousand times over. Why?"  
  
Thor grabbed him by the hand, pulled Loki to his feet just as the waves skirted up the shore, and smiled.   
  
"Then promise me," he said, shifting. "Promise me that nothing will ever come between us. That, even if the Nine Realms fall, we'll stand and die together."  
  
Loki rolled his eyes, gave Thor a playful shove, and smiled.   
  
"Always."  
  
Even were Loki to burn every other bridge, force everyone else away from him with his fondness for tricks and lies, what they were wouldn't change. Nothing, Thor told himself, could pull them apart.


	16. Chewing Bottles

The leaves had changed color, the air grown chill, and, once again, Loki found himself silently enduring the raucous noise caused by Thor and friends in the dining hall. At more than one point he had complained, received snide remarks that, if he didn't like it, he should just get up and leave. But he liked that idea far less, having slipped away into the room to get away from the lot of them in the first place. If anyone should have walked out, or have been kicked out the window as he would swear that Fandral had suggested, it should have been them.   
  
His text on the history of the Nine Realms had since been found and repaired, though there was left a distinct hole through the front cover from where it had been hooked on a fishing pole not four days prior. Loki had purposely allowed it to stay so that, if the need ever came again, he could physically show Thor that his foolishness had a destructive pattern: Damaging his things.   
  
Sif had glared at him for the majority of the hour, her dark eyes seeming to narrow further each time he chanced to look up. Clearly, Thor's pleading had done nothing to satisfy her temper, nor that of the others. Then again, Loki hadn't even bothered to apologize following their little spat in the garden. And, for good measure, he wouldn't. Save on very rare occasion, those saved only for his mother and brother, Loki wasn't a man to apologize for anything. Period.  
  
The prince shut his book, placed it on the chair beside him as he leaned on an elbow, stared at Thor and Volstagg as they threw together plates of meat and insisted that Fandral give them a countdown with which to start their competition. The warrior's glove hit the table, and the two hovered above the dishes, scarfing down everything and anything that they had covered in gravy. Loki smirked, almost hoping that one of them would accidentally bite down on a chicken bone and bring the whole race to an abrupt halt. But they didn't stop, didn't seem the least bit fazed by the bones, and set about throwing them off to the side as they pressed on. One of Thor's skid across the table and landed in front of Loki, and he made a face and grabbed a napkin, taking the thing and wrapping it up with a mental note to properly throw it out later.   
  
They didn't last five minutes before falling back into their chairs, groaning and shoving the plates away. Loki smiled and sidled up beside Thor.   
  
"You know," he said, patting his brother on the arm, "If anyone ever dared to open the two of you up, all they'd find is  _meat._ "  
  
The thunderer gagged and doubled over in his chair, caused Loki to jump up into his, and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Volstagg got to his feet and ran, faster than anyone would have guessed, to the window, leaned out, and vomited into the bushes below. Loki made a face, pinched his nose and sat on the side of the table as he scooted away. The servants hurried in through the doors then, each with a steaming bucket of water and rags as Fandral made a sound of absolute disgust and moved to the curved couches surrounding the fire pit to distance himself. Loki had never been particularly sympathetic to the plights of the palace help, but staring at the floor and seeing all the garbage Thor had shoved down his gullet, he immediately felt a pang of pity for the poor women who would have to clean that up.  
  
 _Disgusting._  
  
Almost instantly following the thought, Thor scurried away from the table with a glass of water, and slapped Volstagg on the back. He took half the liquid into his mouth before handing it to the warrior, sloshed it around in his mouth, and leaned over to spit out the window. Loki stuck out his tongue. Any sensible person knew that, after vomiting, you weren't supposed to just rinse your mouth out with water, but with ale or something that had enough bite to rid your tongue of the taste.   
  
The bearded man followed Thor's example, and placed the glass back onto the table.   
  
"We are never doing that again," he said, and Sif laughed loudly.   
  
Loki stared at her, knew that if he'd mentioned anything of the sort, she'd have seen fit to correct him, if not clock him the way she so dearly wanted to. The trickster didn't see Thor skirt about the edge of the room, creep up behind him and clap a hand over his mouth. Loki squirmed, shouts muffled by Thor's fingers as the servants hurried back out of the room, leaving the floor clean and graced with a shocking scent of lemon. Still rather acidic, but preferable to that of partially digested meats.   
  
"Who's up for another game?" Thor bellowed, and Loki managed to twist out of his grasp only to slip on the still wet floor.   
  
He fell back, caught hold of the table by the tips of his fingers and pulled himself back up. The next rung down on the ladder, next to watching a man vomit, was to fall right where that not so lovely little collection had been. It didn't matter if the slab of floor had been polished with soap and crisp, clean sunshine for three days. Loki was not going to sit on it.   
  
"No," Loki told him, standing straight again. "You are not playing another round, Thor."  
  
From across the room, Sif folded her arms and sneered at him, began to circle the table as though she could intimidate him.   
  
"And who gave you the authority to decide?" she snapped, challenging him with her eyes. "Who died and made you king?"  
  
Loki was prepared to give her a biting retort when Thor moved him off to the side, laid his hands flat on the table and stared back at the woman.   
  
"There are no kings here," he said firmly, and her expression seemed to fade. "Only friends. And that is all there will ever be."  
  
It was satisfying to hear Thor defend him, though unnecessary. He could hold his own, even with Sif. He wasn't the sobbing little coward he'd been as a child. Still, Loki bit his tongue and forced himself not to smile, nodded only as his brother turned to look to him for a sign of agreement.   
  
"What game?" Loki asked, feeling anxiety pool in his gut. They would either end up outdoors to hunt down rabbits or pheasants, or sit around making stupid faces. Perhaps not the last one, but he couldn't think of anything else that Thor would insist they do. He was a very physical person, after all. "Not chasing butterflies, I wager."  
  
Thor laughed, clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to send the trickster to the floor. "Drink and be merry!"  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
The bottles had been brought out nearly three hours before, and now lay scattered across the table and rolling about on the floor, even falling from hands as they hung limp in their seats. His brother hated things like this, which was exactly why Thor had proposed it. Loki needed to calm down for once, thoroughly enjoy himself and forget about all the cares of the world. They were still young, had their whole lives ahead of them, and he needed to learn that before he ended up a stiff old man with a huge chip on his shoulder. Though Loki had protested, Thor had won out, and now smiled lazily at his brother who lay wide-eyed and dazed on the few steps that led to the balcony.   
  
He didn't bother to glance at the others, for they were giggling among themselves, hiccuping and speaking in ways that didn't make even the slightest bit of sense. Fandral said something about his horse, which easily turned into a snort and a comment about how he had nearly fallen off the roof of the palace an hour before. Clearly, the blond man had not simply had a few drinks. He had taken the liberty of completely  _marinating_  himself in liquor. Sif was loud and happy as a woman her age ought to have been, and had not a thought in her head as she snickered at everything the others said. Volstagg slumped over and tried to grab an apple from the basket, missing the whole thing by wide margins each time. And Hogun, strangely enough, had a ridiculous smile plastered to his usually stoic face.   
  
They all laughed, slapped each other and teetered to the floor, shouting that they could be run over by a band of horses and not feel a damn thing.   
  
Thor smiled, knelt on the floor beside his brother who had somehow managed to remove one of his bracers and grind his teeth into the leather. He blinked several times, eyes unfocused though Thor sat only a foot away, and stared at him with a heavy rose color on his pale face. Loki groaned.   
  
"Do you hear them?" he said, and Thor frowned.   
  
"Them?"  
  
Loki nodded slowly, and the thunderer thought that he might actually fall through the floor. "The birds," his brother told him, as though Thor were crazy for not knowing what he was talking about. "Don't you hear them singing?"  
  
Thor laughed loudly, the sort of laugh that would have been labeled as easily disturbing were the lot of them not incredibly drunk.   
  
"You are the only man who can conjure the sound of birds in his head when drunk."  
  
The trickster frowned, tried several times to sit up before giving in and lying back down. "What the hell is wrong with me?"  
  
Thor snorted. "You're  _drunk_." He smiled, stretched his hands out in front of him for fear that he might topple over. "Although, with the way you are, no one can quite know what really goes on in that rat maze of your brain, Brother."  
  
He stopped, tried to steady himself and realized that what he had just said didn't make any sense at all.   
  
Leaning forward, Thor's forehead touched the floor and he spread out, felt his brother's fingers curl into his hair and pull. Probably a bit of simple payback for calling his brain a rat maze. They hadn't fought at all, Loki and their friends. They'd actually managed to sit at table with one another for hours now, play by the rules of his silly game and actually enjoy themselves without even a thought of past wrongs. That was good enough for now, but Thor would have to do better the next time. Ensure that they kept on that way and forgave each other.   
  
Loki tugged on his hair again, but he did nothing, just let his cheek lay against the cool stone of the floor, and shut his eyes.   
  
This was one day out of the rest of their lives, and if his plan was going to work, Thor knew he'd have to do better.


	17. Blood Brothers

"Are you angry with me?"  
  
Thor tangled his fingers behind his back, sucked his lower lip in between his teeth, and looked at his brother with a sheepish expression. Loki hadn't said anything to him following his getting the lot of them drunk, and had seemed to be intent on avoiding him. That rankled, and Thor, though he liked to imagine he was invincible, was always eaten slowly away by the feeling that someone was upset with him. That was why, even when he had never been the one at fault, he had always approached his father with sincerity, apologized for whatever foolishness might have come out of his mouth. It worked, usually. Would put things back to the way they were supposed to be. Except with his brother.   
  
Loki liked to brood and make him uncomfortable.   
  
Propped up against the side of the wide stable was a wooden target, having been easily been cut out of a felled tree by the lake. The rings that marked its years had been crudely painted over with red circles, the bullseye drawing his attention immediately. It looked as though it was bending in the middle, having been pegged and stabbed with far too many knives. The little tassels on the ends of the blades moved lightly in the wind as Loki glanced at him, turned away and made a face as he flung the knife. He groaned loudly, flopped down into the grass as the thing smacked one of the others with a metallic sound, bounced off the target and to the ground.   
  
"Why would I be angry with you?"  
  
Thor creased his brow, determined not to be pulled into this again. Loki had a bad habit of running him in circles with his words, and, every time, managed to change the subject. Quickly, he walked through the grass to where his brother sat, bent down and pulled a knife from the ground.   
  
"Because I got you drunk," Thor replied, and drew his arm back to throw. He grimaced, stumbled as Loki kicked at his ankle, sent the thing flying quite a ways off. "On purpose."  
  
Loki didn't glare at him or anything, just sat there in the grass and shrugged. "So what?" he replied, and started tugging up the greenery with his fists. "It's not as if I had anything better to do with my time."  
  
Now that was strange.   
  
Thor sat down beside him, pulled Loki's head into his arm and tousled his hair. That should have done well to bother his brother, get him to acting like himself again. Mischievous and laughing at his own stupid jokes and pranks or just plain telling Thor that he was butting in. Letting spiders run amok through the kitchen, freezing the bridges so that the horses couldn't walk across, bewitching the palace doors so that they would take a man to the point furthest from his destination. He'd been missing things like that for several days now, and almost wished that, while in the dining hall, Loki had played with their ale so that the bottles never emptied.   
  
The thunderer winced suddenly, pulled his hand away from Loki and saw a thick red line appear in his palm.   
  
"What was that for?!" he demanded, and Loki grabbed him again.   
  
"Shut up."   
  
His brother stared at the blood on his own hand, moved his eyes back and forth between them as if expecting something to change. Blood was blood, and theirs was the same. What could possibly be different about it?   
  
"Loki–"  
  
"I'm tired of being here," the trickster said, giving the knife a throw. It hit the bullseye head on. "And I've been thinking about what you said before... Maybe Muspelheim wouldn't be such a bad idea."  
  
Thor didn't know quite what to say to that. Except for the jab about his brother's obvious disdain for high temperatures, he couldn't think of a reply. Funny as he thought it was, watching Loki's calm demeanor blur into madness as he shuffled about in delusional circles beneath the scorching sun, Thor didn't say anything.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with you," he finally said, trying to be the big brother he always should have been. That was one thing Thor found himself rather ashamed of from time to time. Big brothers were protectors, saviors. Not tormentors.   
  
"How would you know?"  
  
"I'm your brother."  
  
"And that means you know everything, does it?" Loki wiped his hand on the knee of his pants. "I suppose you could tell me the history of the Nine Realms, keep me satisfied with all the wisdom of the library that you've holed up in that head of yours."  
  
Thor rubbed his chin. "I could certainly try. But I don't think you'd find my exaggerated stories nearly as interesting as those musty old books."  
  
"That's because you're lousy at words." Loki smiled. "Like now."  
  
"Muspelheim, then?" he said, not bothering to dispute the fact. Thor had never been particularly eloquent in expressing himself. Which was why, for the most part, he'd tell his stories with sound effects and his hands. Words just didn't seem to do it for him.   
  
"When?"  
  
"Whenever you want."  
  
Loki stared at him, disbelieving the idea that the thunderer wouldn't take the helm of their adventure, then leaned to peer over Thor's shoulder with a serious look. The thunder god turned his head, expecting to see maybe a deer wandering through the grass. But there was nothing, and Thor immediately felt a hand shoving him back and into the dirt.   
  
"It would seem you lack any real observation as well."  
  
Thor smirked, rolled and lunged forward with a hand, slapping the ground as his brother jumped out of reach and started running.   
  
If there was one thing Thor was excellent at, it was outrunning his brother.


	18. Things That Cut

They had played hard, ended up squabbling among the fruit trees, for Thor had tugged his brother from the branches before he could scramble up all the way, secure himself a perch from which to mock him. The elder prince was not fond of climbing. It had ended quickly, their game of chase, what with Loki howling at him to get up and off before he ended up swallowing a mouthful of dirt. Laughing, Thor had carried his complaining brother up to the palace on his back, the way he had when they'd been but boys.   
  
Now, Loki sat at the table in the dining hall, head down and cheek resting upon its surface as he slept. Their mother sat in the chair beside him, leaning on her arms and smiling. Thor was always rather puzzled by that look, not knowing if the fond gleam in her eye was because they'd grown into fine young men, or because she was always reminded of their innocence as children. He smiled all the same as she turned to him, curious as to how she would react upon learning that, one of these days, they had spirited themselves away to roam the flames of Muspelheim.   
  
Thor had said nothing of his decision, but had thought that the both of them would be content to go in only one another's company. To leave behind their friends and the tensions with them. Perhaps forcing the lot of them together, even when drunk, was not the best of ideas. Not only would it serve to further drive the wedge between them, but perhaps cause them to resent even him, as well. And if both parties were against him, there would be no chance for reconciliation.   
  
The doors to the hall opened, Odin's one eye rather calm given that he and Loki had not gotten along well in weeks. He smiled at Thor, at Frigga, and looked increasingly disappointed upon seeing that Loki had fallen fast asleep. Perhaps he had meant to make amends, Thor thought. The Allfather approached the table with a swiftness that some would have thought impossible for a man of his years, and motioned for Thor to stand. The prince did so, but not before casting a questioning look at his mother, who, in turn, stared at Odin as if she meant to ask a question. Even so, she said nothing, and placed her hand over Loki's.   
  
A gust of air moved quickly through the room, past Thor's face and causing his hair to fly forward. His father raised a hand, catching hold of the hand grip he had seen only a hundred times before. It was an ancient relic, one that Thor had always admired in the chamber when he'd visited through his youth. He had always longed to take hold of it, see if he could pull the weapon from the stone upon which it sat. But, each and every time he had tried, Mjolnir had gotten the better of him.   
  
The thunderer breathed deeply, in shock as the hammer was offered to him. When he did not move to take it, believing this to be one of his brother's better tricks, Odin took hold of his hand, pressed the grip into his palm, and stepped back.   
  
It felt warm, a feeling that shocked Thor to the bone. The hammer had sat in that cold and precious room for years, perhaps centuries, even longer than his lifetime had been. But here it was, held within his hand, feeling as though it had always been with him, an extension of himself.   
  
"You have proven yourself time and again," Odin told him, pride brimming in his gaze, "and though you are reckless, headstrong, with responsibility, it is certain you will grow." Thor was at a loss for words, his father's hand upon his shoulder. "Mjolnir is yours."  
  
Thor turned, startled out of his skin as Loki made a sound, that of a man waking from deep sleep, and scraped the legs of the chair against the floor as he shifted. The thunderer turned sharply around, catching sight of his brother's expression as he looked right past Thor and stared at the Allfather, and then at the hammer in Thor's hand. The prince didn't need to look back to know that Odin returned the gesture, and Thor could see the telltale spark of envy in his brother's eye even as Loki forced himself to smile at him.  
  
It looked as though the war between the two was still to rage, and Thor, quite by mistake, had ended up caught in the middle.   
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
He had a headache, not just from being pulled out of a tree and sat on by his bear of a brother, but from anxiety and irritation. What exactly had Thor done to merit the use of a weapon like Mjolnir? His brother was careless, foolish, even a bit of an idiot, as Odin himself had acknowledged, and still Thor now carried the hammer at his side, as though the two of them had never been apart.   
  
Loki scowled, reconciling himself to saying nothing as Thor stood surrounded by his friends, all offering their congratulations and making small talk of all the beasts he'd slay with such a companion. It would not do were he to be accused of being jealous, of wanting the damn thing himself. A hammer like Mjolnir wouldn't have suited him to begin with, nor would Loki have dared to carry the bulky thing about. What irked him was the fact that his father had gone and given it to Thor as though it had been nothing, whereas Loki himself would have been forced to earn something like Gungnir. It just didn't make any sense.   
  
"What's the matter?" Fandral jabbed at him, giving Thor a heavy slap on the arm. "You haven't said a word in the whole of the hour. Jealous, are we?"  
  
The trickster scowled, hit his lip to keep himself from sneering at the man, and folded his hands neatly beneath his chin.   
  
"Before you decide to speak again, imagine, for a moment, what it might be like if, tomorrow, you awakened to find that pretty face of yours gone," Loki said, "replaced instead by that of a  _toad_."  
  
The warrior's eyes widened and turned his head slightly. "You wouldn't."  
  
"Care to test that theory, Fandral?" the prince replied, looking to the others. "What of the rest of you? Perhaps you'd like to try my patience as well."  
  
Hogun, as expected, wasn't perturbed in the slightest by the threat, and returned to speaking quietly to Thor, though the thunderer wasn't listening at all. Sif and Volstagg, however, didn't seem to take kindly to his words, looking as though they'd like nothing more than to drag Loki outside and drown him in the lake. Though, taking into consideration their individual stamina and tenacity, the Lady Sif was far more likely to try her hand at silencing him than any other.   
  
"Slime," Loki swore he heard her murmur, and Thor dropped the hammer to the floor, the metal of its head echoing loudly through the room.  
  
"Enough!" he bellowed, and the pillars seemed to shake, the ceiling threatening to cave in and bury them all beneath golden rubble.   
  
At least, Loki thought, were they to be caught in a tomb made of the palace walls, it would be clean and well decorated.   
  
"I have had enough of this!" Thor shouted, and stormed towards him, using one of the chairs as a step with which to get up on the table. Loki was appalled, stared and pursed his lips as Thor kicked the plate away from him, reached down and grabbed him by the collar. He refused to fight back, even detesting the way Thor sometimes treated him like a child, decided to grin and bear it as he was tugged across the table, forced to stand before Sif and the others. "There are no enemies here, and I will not stand for any of you to behave as such!" Thor's hand collided with the back of his head. "Now, apologize!"  
  
Though the physical way that Thor always dealt with situations angered him to no end, Loki felt a sort of pride in knowing that he was not the only one being chewed out; that his brother's words were directed at the rest of them as well.   
  
He leered at Sif with pale eyes, all but ignoring the Warriors Three, and smirked, turning his head so that Thor could not see.   
  
"Has the lady been expecting an apology?" he said, and Sif's frown deepened. "Oh. She has. And without so much as a thought towards the despicable way she's behaved towards a Son of Odin. Of her  _king_." Thor thumped him again. "Though I suppose I should offer my condolences for your hair." Loki's eyes shone. "Had I but known that my games would be so ill-received..."  
  
Sif avoided his gaze, muttered a half-hearted apology of her own, and turned quickly away, as if refusing to be near him would do any of them any good.   
  
Thor sighed, seemingly satisfied, if only for the moment, and returned to his jolly demeanor, babbling on about how easy it would be to take the head off a bilge snipe with Mjolnir. That made Loki roll his eyes and hope that, now that Thor had a new toy, he wouldn't go inviting Sif and the Warriors Three to join them to play audience on their journey to Muspelheim.


	19. September's Children

Loki had been content to fall into a partial state of sleep upon the grass, say nothing, do nothing, as Thor, having dragged him readily out of bed, set to work saddling the horses with their belongings. Most of it was water, as it should have been, for with Muspelheim being a realm of heat and raging flame, they'd need all they could get. Particularly the trickster, who couldn't even handle the scorch of Asgardian summers.   
  
The air was cold and slightly foggy, but Loki sat quietly under a blanket and ended up falling backwards into the dew and greenery, and soon found himself dreaming again. But when Thor nudged him with a foot, all those pleasant colors and sights and sounds died out, and his eyes opened to see his brother smiling down at him.   
  
Saying nothing, Loki made a face, grunted and rolled away from Thor, keeping the warm fabric wrapped tightly around himself. Of course, Thor would have none of that, and knelt down to grab him, set him on his feet, and pushed Loki until he was forced to walk. He scowled as Thor tugged the blanket away, replaced it with his cloak instead as he set to folding the thing and tying it to his horse. Loki sighed, shook his head and hopped up onto the beast's back, wrapped the reins about his wrists and leaned forward to shut his eyes.   
  
Getting up early was fine. But getting up before dawn just to pack supplies for a lengthy trip was just annoying. Unless, of course, it was to beat Thor at a bet. Competition always changed everything. For both of them.   
  
"Are you not speaking to me today?" Thor chuckled, and fastened a thin rope to the horse's bridle before mounting himself.   
  
Were he to answer, to insist that he were just tired, Thor would keep prodding him with questions, keep nagging at him to share what was really on his mind. Loki didn't want that. So he said nothing, pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and sighed, pretended to close his eyes as Thor nudged his mount along, caused Loki's to follow. It was a gentle motion, to sit back and allow his horse to be led along through the grass and, eventually, onto solid pavement. It was like a boat ride, being tossed lightly about at sea, wondering where the waves would take him. It was almost enough to rock Loki back to sleep again.   
  
His tired eyes watched the ground as it passed by, knowing well that it moved much more quickly than did the horses. A trick of the mind, it was, the sort that Loki was proud he could project upon others.   
  
That got him to thinking, about turning Fandral into a toad, causing all of Volstagg's meat to taste like fruit, projecting a feigned smile upon Hogun's face with which to scare them all. What a treat that would be, to watch the Grim parade around with a toothy grin that was not his own. He'd have to remember that one. He remembered Sif then, the disgusted way she had looked at him, as though he'd crawled in from the muddy outdoors.   
  
Thor screamed at him then, from deep within his head, startling him into an upright position.   
  
 _"Don't you_  ever  _think yourself less than me; than anyone!"_  
  
What a ridiculous idea. He'd never thought himself to be less than Thor, than Sif, than any of them. In fact, Loki had always believed himself to be a great deal better than those fools he had called friends. He didn't have to be stronger than them; his craft alone outdid them all. Intellect didn't even need to be factored into the equation.  
  
Thor was the only one he'd ever cared to impress. Loki frowned. No, that wasn't quite true. For years he'd longed to see that glimmer of pride in Odin's eye, to see himself reflected in that.   
  
 _"Do you really believe that dribble?! That you have no skill save your tricks?! That you are empty?!"_  
  
He didn't. Not really. But Odin hadn't helped to keep the thought out of his mind, and it was clear that in their father's eyes, Thor was everything a king of Asgard should have been. A little rough around the edges, but sure to be the next heir to the throne. And it always made Loki wonder: What was he doing wrong?  
  
Loki sighed, and dared to peer towards Thor as they wandered through the streets of the city. His brother looked back, smiled, and said nothing.   
  
 _"If it's any consolation... I'm proud of you."_  
  
Well, that did it. Thor was a fool, but he was a genuine fool. And, even if he didn't earn their father's favor, perhaps that could be enough.   
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
They had not spoken at all for the whole of the journey. Not during the ride through the city, nor the expanse of the Bifrost bridge. Nothing. Not one word. And though Thor had continued to smile, to grin and bear it, the silence was steadily eating him alive. He didn't like the feeling, especially not now with the way Loki had looked at him the day before. With the hammer hanging at his side, bumping against his leg every now and then, Thor felt his guilt increasing tenfold.   
  
Why had he been rewarded? It had been his fault that they had nearly been killed by the bilge snipe, his foolishness that, a few years prior, had forced their father to rush in on the back of Sleipnir to save them from demise upon Svartalfheim. So, why? What had he done to deserve such a gift? Thor knew he could never be as dashing as Fandral, or as valiant as Volstagg. Why, he couldn't even stand to be quite as serious as Hogun, not even for a moment. He wasn't cunning or quick like his brother, and he had no talent for spells and illusions whatsoever. He was a warrior through and through, made of nerve and brawn and perhaps a bit of iron. He was tall and solid and golden, much like he imagined his father had been in his youth.   
  
Thor bit his lip, wiped his brow with the back of a hand. Perhaps that had been the reason. He reminded Odin very much of himself.   
  
He quickly drained half a waterskin, poured the rest over the head of his horse to keep it cool, and turned back to look at his brother, now slumped over on his mount and still wearing the cloak. Thor tugged on the reins, caused the animal to stop, and hopped quickly to the ground. Loki must have been dying under that thing.   
  
His hand closed around the fabric, tugged it away from his brother's body, and laughed out loud as Loki groaned, threw a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Unlike the stories of Jotunheim, the land of the Fire Giants was bright, consistently lit by a blazing star. The air alone appeared to have a bright, yellow glow.   
  
"Still sleeping?" Thor laughed, and Loki reached out to push him away and missed.   
  
Leaning against the horse, he smiled, tugged on the ends of his brother's hair knowing he'd be slapped for it. Thor didn't like this, didn't like feeling that something was always amiss, that something would go wrong. He'd always known to be suspicious of his brother, to know that, when he smiled, there was only one of two ways it could go. Soft and genuine, or sharpened like the edge of the knives he so favored. The former was just the way it looked, while the latter was full of mischief, always plotting trouble. But both had disappeared, giving way to a third look that Thor had never seen on his brother's face. Envy. Perhaps it was because Loki could hide his feelings better than most, and that confused him.  
  
The god flinched as the horse shifted, opened his eyes and looked to his brother. He'd grown to hate that look, the almost longing way Loki had taking to staring at him. As though Thor had gone and done something to wrong him, to make him question himself and everything that their people knew he was.   
  
Thor frowned slightly, turned away and moved to lead the horses along the heated terrain. To distract himself, he thought on his words to the Gatekeeper, hoped that Heimdall would not out them to their father, would not tell their friends where they had gone were they to ask. But it made him wonder, as well, what would become of them were trouble to come. Would they be left to die in the scorching sun of Muspelheim, or would Heimdall go against the wishes of the prince and inform the others?   
  
With the way he was feeling now, Thor wasn't sure what he wanted. Would it be better to live with the tension that hung so eerily between himself and his brother, or to suffer and die together, just let everything go?  
  
Thor sighed, urged the horses on towards a rock face and a cave, probably the coolest point they'd come across upon the land, and turned to look back for a moment.   
  
Even worn out and overheated, his brother still stared at him, and Thor did not know why.


	20. Doorways

Fandral groaned, threw his head back onto his shoulders and whined.   
  
"Where the devil is he?"  
  
He'd been at it all day as they wandered about, trudging across the grass and pavement and floors of the palace, and Sif was starting to lose her patience. As he started complaining again, she slowed her pace as they walked through the trees, moved beside Fandral and stuck her foot out just slightly, sent him tumbling forward into the dirt. He spat, rolled onto his back and began wiping grime off his lips and tongue with equally filthy gloves, sputtering as Volstagg chuckled and tugged him to his feet.   
  
The warrior swore under his breath at her, kicked at a pine cone and kept on with his whining, demanding to know just what her problem was.   
  
"You ask where he's gone," she said simply, "when you ought to know well."   
  
Her brow creased, detesting the very fact herself. Thor was just as foolish as his brother, always had been, choosing to defend the snake when he didn't even deserve it. The time the trickster had set ants on her in the dead of night, caused them to crawl up her nightgown and spread throughout her chambers as they multiplied in succession, the thunderer had insisted that Loki had meant no harm, even while, standing behind him, the devil had quietly snickered at her with that eerie glint in his eyes.   
  
Loki had always bothered her somehow, though she'd never been able to quite put her finger on it. But his latest trick, this new and sincerely wicked blunder against her, had made everything incredibly clear. She had never liked him. Sif had simply been pretending, for Thor's sake and for peace.  
  
Volstagg ran a hand across the bark of a strong pine, peeled pieces away with his fingertips, and the cracking sound brought a distinct end to the awkwardness of the silence. The man's brown eyes widened beneath red brows as Sif turned to look at him, with an intent to tell him to knock it off, but the obvious innocence in his face, the lack of contention, caused Sif to hold her tongue. It wasn't his fault any more than it was Fandral's or Hogun's. So, why yell at him, or any of them, about all this?   
  
Were they to find Thor, as she hoped they would, run across him and Loki hiding out in a tent and laughing together, perhaps she'd give him the tongue lashing he deserved for running off without telling them, defending his idiot brother all the damn time. But she'd never actually yelled at him before, stayed angry with him for more than a day. And, as experience had shown, when dealing with Loki, Thor was the only one he took seriously aside from their mother. Why, Sif was certain that he'd laugh even in the face of Odin if given the chance.   
  
Hogun sighed, sat down on a nearby stone and took to turning the mace about in his hand. They had all taken to carrying their weapons everywhere following the camping trip, sometimes fingering them obsessively. Apparently the shock of the last journey still hadn't made its way out of their systems. It had, after all, been a somewhat terrifying experience, skilled as they all were.  
  
"Where do you suppose they've gone?" he said, not looking up. "We have been looking for them the whole of the day. And there are only a number of places they could have gotten to within the span of six hours."  
  
Sif stomped her foot and sneered.   
  
"He's off gallivanting with that fool brother of his, of course!"  
  
The others said nothing, and a realization washed over her. The Grim had a point that Sif had not thought to consider in her anger. The two of them couldn't have gone very far, as it was like that they had only awakened at daybreak and set off on their horses as the stable boy had told them, but they certainly had quite the head start, regardless.  
  
The woman sighed, reached skyward towards the nearest branch and hoisted herself up, using the soles of her boots to cling to the bark. She went up one step at a time, fingers curling around each extension of the tree and pulling until Sif found herself at the very top, peering over the sharp pine needles. The sky was so blue when one seemed close enough to touch it, the clouds like cotton that, were she to fall, gave off the illusion that they would swoop down and catch her, lower her gently and safely to the ground again. She stared off in the distance, towards the sea as it glittered in the sunlight, towards the always glowing dome of the Bifrost, and felt her eyes widen.   
  
The four of them had searched everywhere, all of Thor and Loki's usual hiding places, at least those which they knew of, and had found nothing. Not a stone upturned or even footsteps to force down the grass. Nothing. And why, Sif now wondered, would they take the horses if they were only to be venturing a little ways from the palace?   
  
"What is it, Sif?" Fandral chimed as she dropped out of the tree suddenly. "Have you-"  
  
"Save your jokes," she told him, and took off running, urging the men to follow. "I have found them."  
  
"Where?" Volstagg asked in earnest, jogging quickly in an attempt to keep up with her. He breathed heavily. "Don't tell me you happened to spy them from the top of that pine?"  
  
Sif laughed, turned and gave him a smile. "Of course not, you fool."  
  
"Then-"  
  
"Just hold your tongue and keep up. We ride for the Bifrost."  
  


# - # - # - #

  
  
What in the hell had they been thinking, venturing all the way here. They were all but stranded, lying in sweat and misery as the horses whinnied in discontent, knees buckled and on the ground at the mouth of the cave. It was a bloody stupid thing they'd done, deciding to run off to Muspelheim for a bit of fun, perhaps some sport. The temperatures were skyrocketing, the air thick as though they were trying to breathe with a steadily drying clump of mud weighing down their tongues. If there had ever been any water on this godforsaken ball of flame and dirt, it must have dried up long ago, which easily explained the distinct lack of shade or thriving green plant life.   
  
There were stones everywhere, some of them protruding sharply from the cracked earth, as though someone had taken to stalactites from beneath the ground and shoved them upward. They had seen signs of a stream, once, during the godawful trek across what looked to be a desert, only to find that the damned thing was just a trench, probably dug by some other poor visitors in an attempt to cool off. The brothers hadn't bothered looking, had kept pressing onward, but Loki imagined that the poor sods must have burned to a crisp in the dirt.   
  
He wrinkled his nose, cracked his eyes open and glanced at the horses in time to see one of them flop onto its side, wheezing as the breath slowly escaped its body. They should have gone to Jotunheim, he thought, knowing that Thor would have hated the frigid chill that the tales told of. But, as they both knew, it was far easier to warm up, conjure spells and create flame, when one wasn't steadily dying of heat exhaustion.   
  
Loki sighed, rolled onto his side as Thor's shadow appeared at the cave entrance, somehow managing to cool the small space even further. He dripped with sweat, the little beads rolling off his face and chin to strike the scorched stone, disappearing into the air almost as quickly as they had come into being. How his brother still had the means with which to walk, let alone run, in this heat was entirely beyond him. Loki, each time he had tried to stand, had ended up feeling increasingly nauseous.   
  
"There's a city," Thor gasped, dropping to his knees and crawling across the floor. Loki said nothing, narrowed his eyes as if to demand just how they'd be getting there without the horses and supplies. "We can walk."  
  
Loki groaned loudly, the sound echoing through the cave as he sat up on his elbows and moved further back into the dark.   
  
 _"No."_  
  
Thor gave him a perplexed look, as if to ask why he'd want to stay here of all places. Truth was, Loki didn't. There was no fun in waiting around in a hole in the rock until they had enough breath with which to call upon Heimdall again. But the trickster wasn't the least bit interested in shriveling up in the sun, in feeling what little moisture they had in their bodies as it was drained quickly away.   
  
"This was a stupid idea, Thor," he huffed, wishing very much that they were still stranded on the mountain back home, stuck rolling about and arguing in the rain. Why, Loki would trade his left arm to be lying in the dirt watching his brother cutting an antler off that damned bilge snipe again. Anything, he'd decided, was better than this misery. "I still can't believe..."  
  
He was cut off as Thor leaned over him, emptied his waterskin over Loki's head.   
  
Before he could muster the strength to shout at Thor, he stared with dry blue eyes and said, "There's no hope if we're both dead, Brother."  
  
Loki sighed, grabbed him by the front of the breastplate and pulled, forced Thor to topple to the floor beside him. The trickster wiped his face, slapped a wet hand against his brother's forehead.   
  
"We aren't dying here," he said, ignoring the shock in Thor's expression. "Idiot."  
  
How long they lay there, Loki had no idea, even as he stared through his fingers at the sun, watched it slink slowly across the sky and hoping that, once it set, things would be much more bearable. He glanced to the horses then, groaned and shook his head as he realized that the one had stopped breathing all together. Great, Loki thought. They hadn't even been in this hellhole a single day and, already, one of the horses had died.   
  
He moved, nudged Thor in the side and pointed him to the sight, watched his brother's eyes go wide. The thunderer probably realized just how stupid it had been to waste precious water on the animal. His blue gaze moved to Loki, as if to ask how long it would be before the two of them ended up in very much the same situation.   
  
No time was offered to the trickster for a response, as Thor vaulted to his feet and grabbed Loki by the wrist, hurrying to the side of the other, breathing heavily but still alive. It stood as Thor took hold of the reins, urged Loki to hold to the thing with a nod of his head. Tugging the hood over his head, Loki squinted, thought his brother an awful fool as he started dragging the body of the other into the cave to strip it of supplies. When they were tied onto the back of the other, Thor donned his own cloak and started walking, ushering for Loki to follow.   
  
They were undeniably screwed, and that was the harsh reality. It would be a bloody miracle if anyone showed up to drag them back to Asgard, reprimand them both for being such damned idiots.   
  
Almost the instant the thought passed through Loki's mind, the sky turned ray, a sweet relief washing over the both of them as that familiar pillar of clouds and lightning dropped to the ground, shadows appearing through the gray haze.   
  
Thor's face lit up instantly and Loki's expression soured as the shroud disappeared, the Warriors Three and Sif appearing on horseback, their eyes glittering like gold as they looked to Thor. Sif, quite naturally, glowered at Loki the second she saw him. Unfortunately for her, that utter dread fled the trickster completely upon seeing the deep color of her hair, consistent right down to the pale shade of her skin. He smiled, suddenly far more proud of himself than he'd ever been, and failing to hear Thor's voice until a hand cuffed him on the ear.   
  
 _"What?!"_  he said sharply, and turned to his brother. "What?"  
  
"The city," Thor said with a smile, and grabbed Loki by the arm, pulled him towards the horses and urged him towards Sif's. "We can make it now."  
  
Loki stood stone still, used what magic he had energy to muster to stick the soles of his boots firmly to the ground. It didn't matter what Thor, or any of them, said, he was not going to get on the same damned horse as Sif. He'd sooner die than be close enough to allow her to strangle him.   
  
In his opinion, there was nothing more pathetic than to be killed by a woman. Something his mother could never find out about.  
  
"You first," he said, and refused to move until Sif had moved aside to make room for Thor, allow him to take to the reins as she wrapped her arms about his middle.   
  
The thunderer gave him a dirty look which Loki easily ignored, deciding to take his chances with trying to hang onto the back of Volstagg's armor, as the Valiant seemed to have much less of a problem with him than the others. Then again, Hogun could have been equally as forgiving, though it was a bit hard to tell.   
  
The bearded man smiled and shifted forward on the saddle a bit as Loki pulled himself up, silently thankful that Volstagg was so damned solid, otherwise the both of them would have toppled to the ground.   
  
Thor clicked his tongue, caused the worn out horse to walk towards him, and fastened the reins to the bridle of Sif's mount. When the knot was tied to his satisfaction, he trotted to the front of the group, explained just how they'd be getting to the city, and that the journey would be much faster than his own had been now that they were on horseback.   
  
But, as they began to ride, Sif turned back to glare at him, and Loki, being rather prone to a bit of childishness of his own, smiled and stuck the tip of his tongue between his teeth.


	21. The Fire Rises

The city was empty, scorching hot, but empty. Sweat dripped from their brows even more than before, not even making it to the ground as it rolled off their faces. Looking among the crew, anyone could see that they were exhausted, near the point of collapse. Particularly the horses, having to carry the additional weight of their masters and the supplies. But still, they pressed on.   
  
Above them, the buildings loomed, much like those of Asgard, but appearing to be engulfed in flame, making them appear nearly as radiant as the palace, as women like the queen. The walls shone as liquid gold would when tossed about in the pot, poured pounded into beautiful pieces of jewelry or armor by the Dwarves and sent off to adorn and protect bodies across the Nine Realms. Thor could feel the trembling of Sif's arms as she shifted slightly, the pull as her cheek, which had stuck for a time to his back, came away from him. In comparison to the overwhelming heat, the air which was sure to be killing his brother, the woman's breath felt cool as it blew through his air, touched the back of his neck, and Thor felt his skin freeze and ripple.   
  
What a strange city it was, barren and seemingly devoid of all life. The sound of the horses' hooves echoed loudly as they traveled down the paved road, heading towards a structure that appeared to be a palace. It was not nearly so large as that of Asgard, which suited Thor just fine. The thought made him smile. There was no structure in the whole of the cosmos that could compare to his father's house, to the beauteous home crafted by the hands of a king long-since passed, a king made legend in the eternal pages of history. Should one ever appear in his lifetime, Thor would take his newfound power, that of the mighty Mjolnir, and bring its bricks to the ground. For so long as there was breath in his body, Asgard would be seen as the crown jewel, the most powerful, of the Nine Realms.   
  
Thor gasped, tugged hard on the reins as the horse reared, threatened to throw Sif off. He grimaced, twisted at a sharp angle and brought the animal down on all fours again, spoke softly into its ear as the woman hopped off and shook her head. She fingered her blade.   
  
"I do not like this," she said when he turned, and the others, save Loki, nodded in agreement. "There is something not right about this place."  
  
The thunderer sighed as he dropped to the ground, watched the others follow suit. He snickered under his breath as Loki nearly fell over, saved only by Volstagg who had clamped a strong hand to his arm. The trickster nodded to the bearded man, his eyes, now strangely see-through and absent of a distinguishable color, turned to look at the God of Thunder. Though sincerely bothered by that fact, Thor reconciled himself to not make mention of it in the presence of their friends. If there was one thing his brother detested more than being made a spectacle, it was appearing weak.   
  
That was probably why he hadn't complained about the heat for the whole of the ride.   
  
"We will not stay," Thor told them, raising his hands in an attempt to bring about a sense of ease. "Should we find anyone, we will simply ask for what we need, water, and be on our way."  
  
As soon as the words escaped his lips, his friends took several steps back, mouths all agape and eyes the size of saucers, all with their hands fingering their weapons. Even Loki, who had never been known to be sincerely affected by surprises, looked as though his sharp tongue might fall right out of his mouth and onto the ground as a pile of ash. The trickster raised a hand, dark brows having shot up towards his hairline, and pointed slowly behind Thor, insisting that he stop staring and turn himself around.   
  
Thor flinched visibly as the ground shifted beneath him, the small spaces between the bricks looking as though they'd tear open, give way to bursting flame. He stared at his feet, suddenly afraid to turn and look, and caught sight of his shadow as it vanished, as bright, bursting light appeared in a wide column around the space where the darkness should have been. His blue eyes moved slowly across the ground, not stopping until they fell upon his brother who looked more and more uncomfortable by the second. Loki's eye twitched slightly as he stared up, presumably at whatever figure stood behind Thor. He looked about ready to let his knees buckle so as to pass out.   
  
When Thor turned, he felt the shock slowly dissipate, even as he stared up into the dark-skinned face of a giant, his face covered in thick, coarse red hair that appeared to burn. The giant lifted his head higher as Thor straightened himself out, took a step back and pulled his shoulders level. He could hear the collective pounding of his companions' hearts, wondered if this giant, what with his gleaming yellow eyes, could hear it as well.   
  
He no longer shared the uneasiness that flitted about among the others, as though it were a cold that had quickly exchanged hands.   
  
The prince plastered a smug smile on his face, failing to realize that Loki now held fast to his shoulders, breathed shakily in his ear.   
  
"Thor–"  
  
"Know your place!" the god hissed, raising a hand to silence his brother. He didn't see Loki's eyes narrow, and returned his attention to the giant. His voice held firm as he spoke. "We have come to your city in search of–"  
  
"Leave," the giant said flatly, voice striking a strange chord in Thor.   
  
It sounded the voice of a king, of his father's as it bounced across the walls of the throne room, resolute and unyielding. But it was louder, deeper, and Thor was struck with the idea that this giant before them was not Surtr, not the legendary ruler of Muspelheim, for why would a king come to meet visitors at the entrance to his own palace?   
  
Thor frowned, felt Loki start to hang on him for support, knew that he had to reason with this monster, play the part of the polite visitor that his brother would have been, and get what they needed from these people. So he swallowed, as if to force pride deep down into his gut, and took a step back, as if to show the giant that they had not come to threaten.   
  
"We mean your people no harm," Thor said, and he could have sworn that Loki kicked him. He shifted, forced his brother to stumble back, and raised his hands, noting that the giant eyed the hammer at his side. "We have only come for–"  
  
 _"Leave,_ " the giant said again, this time with a sneer. He advanced on Thor, who jumped back a good three feet and stumbled, hitting the ground hard with his backside. "I care not for your reasoning, little one." Thor frowned. "You have entered this realm, breached the borders of our city without the consent of our king, our people. Regardless of your intentions, you are but the enemy."  
  
Thor's nostrils flared, clutching the grip of Mjolnir tight in his hand. Loki stepped in front of him, hissed in his ear before the giant quickly shoved him aside.   
  
That made the thunderer even angrier.   
  
"Do you not know who we are?!" he roared, and cast his eyes about the street, shocked to find that a small cluster of Fire Giants had accumulated around them. There were women as well as men, their figures slimmer but sure to be just as powerful, eyes the same leering yellow, and that thick, coarse red hair falling wildly down their backs. They all appeared savage-like, Thor thought, clad in various pieces of stitched leather, seeking only to cover the most intimate parts of their bodies and leaving the remainder of their dark skin to burst through in the light of the brimming flames. "You stand in the presence of the greatest warriors of all Asgard! The presence of the Sons of Odin!"  
  
Loki drew a sharp intake of breath, and Thor stood his ground. He tossed the hammer about in his hand, felt the solid form of Mjolnir as it seemed to mold to his body, take on the electricity that surged through him.   
  
The giant seemed to consider this, looked from one member of their group to the next until he came to look at Thor again. A dark hand moved to his thick beard, heavy red brows raised high upon his forehead.   
  
"The Sons of Odin," he repeated, and looked from Thor to Loki and back once more. Thor nodded, failing to notice the utter dread upon his brother's face. The giant grinned. "Well, than we shall treat you with the utmost respect... and mount your heads on the walls of our king's chambers."  
  
Thor felt his heart sink, found himself frozen in place as his friends drew their weapons. The giant seemed to pull a club from out of nowhere, and Thor felt himself being thrown across the ground as Loki shoved him, head turning just as the hunk of steel flew towards him.  
  


# - # - # - #

  
  
"No!" he heard Thor shout, and dropped quickly to his knees, hands slapping the ground just in time to separate himself from his double, which was cleanly vanquished by the heavy blow.   
  
The giant growled and Loki rolled to the side, managed to catch hold of Thor's hand as the thunderer stood. He swung the hammer with one arm, Loki with the other, easily catching a charging giant in the chest with the head of Mjolnir, sending her flying off and into the side of a building. The burning bricks splintered, sent chunks of rubble and dust towards the sky, the unrelenting sun, and caused all eyes to fall upon Thor. Loki threw his back against his brother's, forgetting all about fatigue and focusing solely upon survival. The giants screamed as a rain of daggers fell upon them, fashioned out of the remains of the building, and the trickster nudged Thor sharply in the side with an elbow, snapping him out of his stupid trance.   
  
"What's wrong with you?!" he shouted, turning to see over Thor's shoulder. A giant was closing in on them and lunged, seeking to take the thunderer's feet out from beneath him.   
  
Loki groaned loudly, couldn't believe that Thor was taking time to stare incredulously at his hammer, his magnified strength, and wrapped one arm about his neck, pulled back until his brother gagged, and shoved him off to the side. The trickster yelped, the giant's club catching him in the leg and sending him tumbling to the ground. His head hit the bricks hard, and white flashes appeared before his eyes as he grimaced, found himself staring up into the yellow eyes of the woman.   
  
He grit his teeth, nearly grinding his molars to dust as her hand closed around his throat, a sharp pain, more than that of any blade, surging through his skin. He felt hot, as though the sun had dropped out of the sky, suspended itself a scant distance away from him, content in letting off its relentless flames until he was naught but a burnt patch on the ground.   
  
There came a sound, sickening and familiar, as the giant woman's arm was severed, the blood, a warm gray color, spilling down the front of Loki's armor, causing him to scurry back and bump up against Fandral. For a fleeting second, Sif looked down at him, her breath heavy and labored before spinning on her heel, driving her blade through another of the beasts with a loud shout.   
  
Loki jumped to his feet, turned in time to see Volstagg's feet breaking through the ground as he pushed a Fire Giant back with the handle of his great ax, face contorted into an expression that was nothing short of strain and desperation. The trickster, flinched, scowled when the burns on his skin flared up, and snapped his fingers, sent three of his duplicates towards the giant as it began to bend the Valiant backwards. The beast ignored them, used one hand to turn one of them into dust as he kept throwing his weight against the warrior. Knives flew towards them then, the giant growling as one struck him in the side of the head, stepping back just in time for Volstagg to straighten up and plant the head of the ax deep in his gut.   
  
The bearded man dropped the weapon as soon as it was pulled free, his jaw slackened and causing Loki to turn. The others had stopped as well, as had the giants, and all eyes stared as Thor was thrown back onto the ground, the hammer escaping his grasp as the first of the Fire Giants seized a spear from one of the women, and drove it into Thor's chest.


	22. Old Man

It was like nothing he'd ever felt, soaring above and beyond the fire that surged through his skin and threatened to tear him apart. As though he'd been violently electrocuted, shot through with his brother's damned current, and Loki dropped, didn't even register in his mind that he was soaked, not only in the blood of the giants, but his own, in sweat and anxiety. What hideous phantasm was this, that which forced a bright stream of crimson to move through the cracks in the now broken bricks, slip through his fingers and stain the knees of his pants? What nightmare had he been caught up in, to feel his heart speed up and then stop dead in his chest, crumbling with his bones as Thor tilted his head back, stared at him with empty blue eyes?   
  
He shuddered, felt that unpleasant tang on his lips, recognizing his body's vicious reaction to the sight. Her hands fell on him then as he teetered to his feet, mouth open and sucking in what breath he could, though none of it was even close to enough. Sif's words were garbled, as though his head were underwater, and he pulled away from her, ignored her obvious cries for him to cease and be still. But who was she, who were any of them, to command him, prince of Asgard and Son of Odin Allfather?   
  
What kind of animals were they, he thought, ramming his shoulder against the giant, forcing him out of the way, to crave war, blood, violence? Was it tradition, pounded so deeply into the bones of the first Aesir that it had become a part of their genetic makeup, or had it always been, always bubbled beneath the surface, caused the warriors of Asgard to raise their glasses to toast the beating of the bloodied war drums? The beast did not respond as Loki found himself making that detestable sound, whimpering, simply standing off to the side as his hands framed Thor's face.   
  
"Thor!  _Thor!_ "  
  
He looked so pathetic, this man, his brother, who had always stood tall, even as a boy, parading about as if he owned the world. The most irritating of the kingdom's inhabitants, likely the most stuck up, obnoxious, haughty bastard in the whole of the Nine Realms, and here he was, lying on the ground in a land of giants, savages, as though he were a quivering old man, choking on his own blood and spit.   
  
Loki cast his eyes upward, stared at the others one at a time, bit his lip and waited, hoping that one of them would have it.   
  
"What are you waiting for?!" he hissed, frantic. Why the hell weren't they doing anything, moving? At least one of them should have carried it, the Healing Stone. They were all idiots, Loki knew, but they couldn't  _all_  be so foolish as to not carry such a necessity.   
  
But not a one of them uttered a word, not a one moved, stood still and daft among the ripped up bricks, broken bodies and flame.   
  
Thor had asked him once, in recent months, on the very morn he'd decided that they'd run off to hunt bilge snipe, why he couldn't heal the wounds of others. Loki had never known, had never actually tried with any of the Aesir. There had been one instance, he recalled, where he'd made the mistake of pinning a squirrel to a tree by its tail during a bit of archery practice, and had done his best to keep the poor thing from bleeding. Needless to say, it hadn't worked. But looking at his brother now, it seemed there was no other choice.   
  
With one hand laid flat against the breastplate of the armor, now cracked in many places as a testament to the Fire Giants' strength, his fingers closed around the shaft of the spear, and pulled. Thor flinched, moved his head across the ground and groaned, making all of this a hell of a lot worse. Loki looked to the others, not having a damn clue as to what he was supposed to be doing. He'd broken his fingers before, cut himself sharpening knives, and hurt himself in numerous other ways. But with those injuries, being relatively minor as well as his own, had been a cinch, for he had only waved a hand over the affected area and waited for the skin to mend itself.   
  
So, he supposed, that was what he ought to be doing. And he did.   
  
His teeth chattered, trembling as Thor began to writhe, shift beneath him, making gentle sounds at the back of his throat. Loki shook his head and leaned forward, throwing his weight onto Thor's chest in an attempt to keep him still. This wasn't going to work if Thor kept moving. But the thunderer was stubborn, even standing on the threshold of death, and shoved back, sent Loki toppling backwards as the Fire Giant laughed.   
  
The trickster turned on the beast, hands clenched into fists before they relaxed, opened, fashioned thin knives out of the dust on the ground, in the air. He hated that look, the one they all seemed to wear in his presence. They all thought him to be a coward, far below any of them. Even the monsters of the other worlds believed themselves to be above him, a prince of Asgard, a future king. They thought him only clever enough to perform petty little magic tricks, pulling rabbits out of pitchers of ale and water, producing a series of butterflies from beneath a napkin or a tablecloth. They thought him a child, and it  _burned._  
  
He forced himself to shudder, scramble back a ways as he peered over the giant's shoulder, eyes wide as though the cosmos were about to come crashing down upon them.   
  
But the giant only laughed, did not fall for the trick, did not turn his head or even move so that the trickster could end him. He just smiled, leered at Loki, mocking him.   
  
Loki glanced to his brother, blue eyes cracked open enough to look at him as Sif and the others knelt beside them, and Thor stretched out his hand, pushed the knives from his fingers and held on tight. They had used to run around like this, each holding fast to the other, as though there were nothing in the world that could tear them apart. Of course, those had been simpler times, before Thor had learned to wield a sword and kill, and before Loki had ever deigned to immerse himself in the vast knowledge of his mother's library. They had not known fully of death then, had only ever heard of it in passing, easily dismissing it as a subject fit for the adults at the dinner table.   
  
But being here, sucked dry and scorched by flame, bleeding and wondering just how, if at all, they would get home, death was very much a part of their lives, and upon Muspelheim the brothers now faced it.   
  
A crash came from the sky, from the structure behind the giant, and the great, flaming archway of the palace came crashing down, the weight breaking through the steps, scattering the rows of torches and causing all eyes to grow wide as light flashed, illuminating the eight-legged figure within the pillar of smoke.   
  
The giants howled at one another in the ancient tongues, rushed past them and down the narrow passageways between the buildings, screaming and sounding an alarm for the others to stay away.   
  
Loki sighed, fell backwards next to Thor as Odin and Sleipnir descended the broken steps. The horse marched around them in a circle and reared as the Allfather looked down at them. It was certain that he would have their heads once the damage was repaired, at least, that which could be repaired, but, for now, there was a distinct gleam of relief in Odin's one eye, and Loki could do nothing but smile.   
  
Who would have thought that he'd be so bloody grateful to the old man?


	23. Names

All Thor did was sleep anymore, and it was becoming troublesome. Loki had forced himself to sit in his brother's room with a book, try his hardest to read. But, with each page he turned, his fingers moved over the hole in the cover, that made with a fishing hook, and he had to look up, stare at the bed where Thor lay, and watch until he breathed again.   
  
It made him sick, more than it had after the last hunt, to know that Thor was looking the part of a weakling. He'd had it coming though, which Loki would never say aloud, having challenged the Fire Giant as he had, having announced their identities to the enemy without knowing their intentions. Sons of Odin, the fool had bellowed. Why, were they to go around announcing themselves to everyone, it would be best to gather all the beings of the Nine Realms into the royal city and arm them. The book snapped shut at that thought, and he frowned. Dear as Thor was to him, he was an idiot, and, one of these days, he was going to get them all killed.   
  
The chair was set a safe distance from the thunderer's bedside, but close enough to see whether or not he was still breathing.   
  
Loki grimaced, crossed the room quickly and sat himself on the edge of the mattress, shaking his head at Thor. He'd come right out of the scrap with little more than scrapes, bruises, and burns that were still healing. But Thor, what with his big mouth and insatiable desire to prove himself to everyone and anyone, hadn't been quite so lucky. A couple of cracked ribs from his bout with the spear, damaged armor, and the skin on his palms that had been rubbed raw from the grip of Mjolnir, among various other cuts and gashes.   
  
Strangely enough, Odin hadn't said a word to a one of them once they'd returned. He'd simply sent them off to the healing rooms and the baths to clean up, and had all but disappeared. Loki hadn't seen even a gray hair in over a week now. And it bothered him, for Loki knew that this was far from over. That, in a few days, the Allfather would be prepared to let him have it, lop his head off.  
  
Loki cringed. If tomorrow never came, he'd be fine with it.   
  
His eyes moved as Thor shifted, rolled over to face him and stared up with a tired gaze, blue orbs easily clouded over, exhausted. He raised an arm to his forehead, sighed and smiled. Loki did not return the look. His darkened. How strange it was that the burned patches on Thor's arms and face had nearly healed, while his were still dark and sore against his pale skin. Even the healers hadn't seemed to have the slightest idea as to why.   
  
"It seems Father hasn't killed you yet," Thor said, and sat up with a laugh.   
  
Loki frowned, nearly stuck his tongue out at his brother like a child, but bit down on it instead. "And what would make you think I'd be the victim of his temper?"  
  
The thunderer looked sheepish, stared down at the white bandages on his wrists as he lay his hands in his lap. "Because you lie." Loki bristled. "You always lie for me. Tell Father it was your idea, your fault. And you shouldn't."  
  
Well, that changed everything.   
  
Loki sighed, refused to look at Thor, instead staring at his own reflection in the polished floor. "You don't take criticism well, Brother," he said. "You argue with opinion, insist that your own is truth; that yours is right. I have more practice holding my tongue." Their eyes met. "If I told Father that this was all your doing, I'd never hear the end of it."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Don't be stupid, Thor," he huffed, and nearly reached out to shove him. "I tell Father it's really your fault, he shouts at me, you shout right back. It goes back and forth for days, and lay the tensions on the air so thick, that no man can sleep for weeks in fear of suffocating in it." His brother only stared. "Stop trying to protect me, Thor."  
  
The thunderer smiled, hid behind a hand as he snickered. "Well, you do a lousy job at protecting yourself."  
  
Loki rolled his eyes, snarled and pushed off the bed, moved to where Thor's armor now lay, still cracked upon a table. He stared down at it with a sneer, thought that, for a moment, he understood his brother. How pleasant it would have been to knock that damned giant down a few pegs, teach him not to mock the Sons of Odin, finest warriors of all Asgard. The trickster raised a hand, sighed and snapped his fingers, watched as the cracks in the metal stitched themselves together, about as quickly as ice violently split upon the surface of the lake. In seconds, it was as it had been before, as it should have always been, shimmering silver and flawless their mother's complexion.   
  
The doors opened as Loki took the breastplate in his hands, as Thor swung his legs out of bed. One of the guards, those which kept watch over the throne room, stood tall and proud, looked from one prince to the other without so much as batting an eye.   
  
"The Allfather commands your presence," he said, and Loki felt his stomach drop. "You are to report to the great hall immediately."  
  
The brothers quickly exchanged looks as the man turned on his heel and marched out, the great golden doors shutting heavily behind him.   
  
They were doomed.   
  
"Loki–"  
  
"Keep quiet and get dressed," the trickster snapped, tossing the breastplate onto the bed. The rest of Thor's dressings quickly followed. "And be sure to keep your mouth shut."  
  


# - # - # - #

  
  
At any other occasion, he would have been able to feel his brother's discontent, his irritation at having to hold him up, walk slowly along through the halls, for Loki was swift, couldn't stand tardiness, and often told him such. But this time, it was a curtain of relief that sat about both their shoulders, his brother's mouth moving slightly as he spoke to himself in silence. Probably rehearsal for the lecture their father was sure to give, and, for a moment, Thor could have sworn that Loki had been shaking.   
  
He hadn't promised a thing, had only nodded once when asked to keep his thoughts to himself. They didn't need him to make this worse, Loki had told him, and their poor mother didn't need to be kept awake any more at night trying to quell Odin's temper. But, Thor thought, what could he do were their father to blame Loki, as he always did, for things that he did not do? The prince was not like the Allfather, a man dedicated solely to justice and the peace, but, in this case, in the case of his brother, he was more than willing to accept his own punishments. All of their foolishness was, for the most part, his fault.   
  
The doors to the great hall opened wide as they approached, and Thor's eyes did as well, shocked to see that not only their mother was present, but their friends as well. They too were still a bit worse for the wear, sporting fading bruises and bandages wrapped around fingers and over heavy cuts. They all looked to the brothers, not a one with a foul glare or a snarl upon their face. Rather, it was worry, fear for the fact that the worst of the results of their journey had not yet come. Though, Thor imagined that they must have felt a great deal of relief as well, for they had only hurried off to Muspelheim to bring himself and Loki home.   
  
Thor flinched as the doors shut heavily behind, shifted as Frigga came to touch him, gently pull his arms from Loki. She stared at him with sad eyes, a muted disappointment, and Thor knew that she understood his intentions. That, because his brother had asked, he would allow Loki to take the brunt of the Allfather's rage.   
  
Immediately, Thor's eyes were downcast, and he refused to look at her.   
  
"I give to you great power," Odin began, and Thor realized that he'd left Mjolnir back in his chambers. The king turned. "And, only in your greed for strength, for the sights and sounds of war, do you accept. Go swiftly behind my back and seek to do battle with the Nine Realms!"  
  
"That is not the way of it," Loki muttered, and Thor felt the sting of the Allfather's gaze fall upon his brother.   
  
Odin crossed the room quickly, paced about before Sif and the Warriors Three, ignored the trickster's words and went on. He raged about Thor's foolishness, how quickly he would find himself overwhelmed, were he to be placed upon the dias of the throne now, crowned successor and new king of Asgard. He spoke not of the warrior's stupidity, but of their prowess, their courage and their duty to their homeland, that they had risked more than just their lives, their honor, to bring home their two wayward princes.   
  
Thor shut his eyes and grimaced, hated the fact that their father was always so quick to anger, so quick to judge, but slow to forgive and forget. He hated knowing that his brother always took the beating for him, the brother he'd been given to love and protect. It shouldn't have been Loki lying for him, saying that he was the cause of all their mistakes. It should have been him, the elder brother, taking responsibility for his own damned foolishness.   
  
"Not the way of it," Odin repeated, coming to stand before the brothers. Thor lifted his gaze slightly, wanted to speak out against all this injustice. "Am I meant to believe that  _you_ ," he glowered at Loki, "were the cause of this ridiculous farce? That  _you_  forced your brother into such madness, nearly cost you both your lives?!"  
  
Thor's jaw dropped, heard the sound echo a hundred times over in his ears as Loki was struck, stood silent and biting his bottom lip to keep from giving Odin what he had coming.   
  
"Do you think your lies are so well-crafted that I would turn my blind eye to them and not see the truth?! Do you take me for a fool, boy?!" the king demanded.   
  
His hand reached out, pushed Loki back and into their mother's waiting arms. Though he would surely be reprimanded for it later, Thor could not find it in himself to care. He couldn't take this anymore.   
  
"It is my fault, Father," he said, and felt Loki's eyes boring into the back of his head. "I proposed, some months ago, that we leave Asgard, explore the Nine Realms and find a more suitable place."  
  
The words took the king by surprise, his anger suddenly washed away in a tide of shock. "Why would you–"  
  
Thor swallowed, turned back over his shoulder to look at his brother, still cradled in Frigga's arms, whose eyes demanded that he not utter a word of their private conversations. If he did, Loki would make sure that he paid dearly for it.  
  
 _"Father likes you best, you know."_  
  
A sigh escaped the king, his hand coming to rest on Thor's shoulder.   
  
"What's done is best forgotten," he said, and Thor could not believe what he had heard. Odin turned away a moment, raised a hand and caused Mjolnir to fly through the open archway of the window. He offered the hammer to Thor whose fingers closed hesitantly around it. "Take care of it, my son. For we will hold your celebration in a few days' time."  
  
Thor was speechless, could only watch as Odin strode past him and out the doors, leaving the rest of them to stand in shock and wonder. His friends stared with wide eyes, each looking to the other as if to ask if this were but a joke.   
  
The prince turned, the hammer feeling heavy in his hand as his eyes met Loki's smoldering gaze.  
  
That, it seemed, settled it. His brother had been right all along. Their choices did not define Odin's reaction at the time of lecture and punishment, but their names. Only one of them could be right in the king's eye.


	24. When The Dust Settles

"I suppose that, in light of present circumstances, I can forgive your poor manners," she said, and took the tattered tome from his hands and shoved it to the floor.   
  
He sighed as she threw her arms about his neck and she sat, with a sharp smile, squarely in his lap. There was no point in expressing to her just how deeply he disliked being interrupted, or having things taken from him like that. But Loki said nothing, stiffened slightly as she leaned against his shoulder, fingers moving through the fabric of his tunic as her lips found his throat. It was still a bother, as Sigyn must have surely known, the mark that the Fire Giants had left upon his skin. Still, the gesture was strangely soothing, and Loki shut his eyes and leaned back in the chair as she followed, kissed him again as the hanging sleeve of her silk gown grazed the side of his face.   
  
"You forgive me?" he said with a frown, and Sigyn's lips fell upon his. The prince sighed and turned his head. "Who ever asked you to forgive me?"  
  
The woman sat up straight, wore a placid expression and let her hands play through his hair, leaning forward after a time to settle her cheek atop his head. Sigyn said nothing, but he could tell that she was stalling, refusing to answer the question he had posed.   
  
Having already had his patience tested enough for a day, Loki scowled, reached back and grabbed her wrists, squeezing until he thought she might break. That, it seemed, was just enough to get her full attention.   
  
"Answer me."  
  
She made a face, shaped her lips as though she were pouting, and stared at him with those doe eyes of hers. Loki groaned and let her go.   
  
"Well," said Sigyn, contenting herself with pressing her forehead to his, "I know how you detest asking for forgiveness, or apologizing, for that matter, as it carries the heavy implication that you were wrong." Loki gave her a warning glance. Her fingertips traced the line of his collarbone through the tunic. "And, given how you ran away like that, nearly burned to cinders, I thought it best to just let those nasty words of yours go."  
  
Loki scoffed, raised his brows in mock acceptance and sat quietly as she kissed him again. Women were so strange, always finding the most subtle ways to tell men that they weren't right, slipping little hints into their lengthy monologues that served only to confuse. Just one of the many reasons as to why he had a penchant for exploring, trying to figure just which of these increasingly strange creatures was right. Preferably one that wasn't quite so mouthy as Sigyn, but, thus far, she was the closest he'd come to finding the right fit.   
  
She jumped, his hands moving against her sides, sliding down her hips to gently cup her backside. Sigyn smiled against his lips, reached back to push his touch away. Loki snickered. It was all a part of the game they played. She would pretend that she held no interest in him, even as she teased like this, and Loki would keep going at it until it came time for her to cave, take him by the hand and lead him down the halls, demand that he hurry up.   
  
Three times more they repeated the process, all the while Sigyn struggling to hide her laughter, her utter glee as her kisses grew harder and more passionate. Loki would be damned to shove her aside, be it now or ever. This woman was too damn perfect.   
  
"It would seem that the blaze of Muspelheim left you parched for more than just water."  
  
He sighed and broke the kiss, licking his lips as Sigyn huffed, decided to rest her head on his shoulder and shut her eyes so as not to stare angrily at their most unwelcome visitor. Of course, if either of them voiced that fact, Sif would be quick to tell them that the library was not the place for their ridiculous foreplay.   
  
The trickster's lip curled, dark brows furrowed as the warrior woman stood some ways away, arms folded and watching him expectantly. He knew what she was waiting for.   
  
"Perhaps," he replied, and Sigyn seemed to hold to him even tighter. "But I cannot fathom as to how you came to find my affairs any business of yours."  
  
Sif shrugged her shoulders. "And I can't fathom how you came to claim the library as your personal chambers. There are, as you well know, far more appropriate places for you and your lasciviousness."  
  
"This isn't about me," Loki told her curtly. "Or, more accurately, my pastimes." Sigyn snickered. "You're bothered that Thor took the blame as he should." He put on a thoughtful face. "Tell me, Sif. Did it not thrill you to see the Allfather strike me so? Are you not so overcome with joy, that you've come to rub it in?"  
  
The warrior woman stiffened, opened her mouth as though she'd like to deliver just as much bite with her own words, but hesitated. She sighed.   
  
"I came to thank you."  
  
Now, that was a shock. "Thank me?" Loki jeered, shaking his head. "I can't imagine what for. Unless, after all that fuss, you've realized just how much that new color does for your complexion. Stunning, really."   
  
Sigyn made a sound of discontent and shoved him.   
  
"Thor is rather foolish at times." The prince couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And, I regret to say, if you weren't always following at his heels, playing caretaker and the irritating voice of reason... he'd be dead."  
  
How surprising that something so genuine would escape the mouth of the Lady Sif. Particularly considering just how much she and the Warriors Three hated him now.   
  
Loki smirked, refusing to give her any more pleasure than that, and nudged the woman on his lap. Sigyn sat up quickly, lifted her gown a bit and repositioned herself so that she straddled his waist, leaning back in to nip at his throat. The trickster moaned softly and swallowed. Sif looked positively disgusted with the display.   
  
"Such a kind sentiment," he said, though with a bit of difficulty as Sigyn shifted her hips against him. "If you have nothing else to say, perhaps you'd be so generous as to leave me to my–"  
  
His eyes crossed then, rolled back behind his eyelids as Sigyn's hands teased, their breaths growing hot and labored the more they plastered themselves together. Loki shuddered, felt that fluttering feeling well up in his gut, and ignored the disgusted sound made by the lady warrior as she turned curtly on a heel and strode out of the room.


	25. Slaves Of The Cold

Merciless winds and snow bombarded the land, gave everything that hardened feel, that chill that so many found to be distasteful. The torches that lined the palace halls, the bonfires that burst in their containers in each of the large rooms all seemed to burn the brighter, what with the fog that had settled in with the strange beauty of the blizzard. Overnight, the lake had been turned to solid ice, the pines on the mountainsides covered with a thick, heavy coat of snow. Even the tender flowers and plants of the magnificent gardens had shut down for the season, gone quickly to sleep at the first sign of the biting winter.   
  
Many found the weather to be bothersome, too cold, too much of an interference with their daily tasks. Thor, on the other hand, found it to be quite stunning as he stood at one of the wide windows of his room, peered out across the whitewashed kingdom and smiled gently. The Allfather had been telling him, for weeks now, about his ceremony, the ancient tradition that would forever seal him and the strength of Mjolnir together, just as he had been bound to Gungnir many years before. Thor was pleased with this, though not nearly so much as he was with the change in weather. He was not accustomed to the cold as his brother was, did not sneak out of his bedchambers in the dead of night to walk through the snow, watch as the powder caused his steps to vanish in the dark. But he rather liked how brightly the world seemed to glow with flame, how much warmer the expanse of the palace seemed when the sky outside was bleak and frozen.   
  
Still smiling, Thor held the fresh and folded garments in his hands, a deep red tunic and his dark pants to accompany it, as he headed down the halls, standing straight and tall as he wound his way though the palace, darted quickly outside for a second to reach the bathhouse. A hand closed around the handle of the door and pulled, and Thor was immediately overcome by the comforting feel of steam closing around him, filling his lungs. His things were placed quickly on a shelf, the cloak that sat about his frame pulled away as he seized a towel. It was only then that the prince heard a sound of utter disgust.   
  
"Honestly," came Fandral's voice, and Thor turned a nearby corner to see the Warriors Three sitting on a bench by the wall, staring awkwardly at the divide that separated them from the heated waters.   
  
Thor nudged the man with a hand, caused him to jump as he sat beside him, mussed up Fandral's hair and smiled. "What can be so terrible on this day that you refrain from enjoying yourselves so?" He looked to Hogun and Volstagg as well. "Surely, the cold has not eaten away at your bones as of yet."  
  
Hogun shook his head, nodded in the direction of the baths and leaned on an elbow. "Not quite," he said, and Thor detected the slightest bit of discomfort in his voice. "There are things that, as warriors of the realm, as men, we are not comfortable with."  
  
This sounded curious to Thor, and he glanced at Volstagg for clarification. "What things?"  
  
The bearded man, who seemed to shudder a bit as he breathed, made a face and pursed his lips tightly together for a moment. "You see, Thor, it is one thing for women to be seen and heard in the privacy of one's own chambers." He flinched, balled his hands into fists. "But, as Sif has said numerable times, there are always those who hold contempt for such... practices."  
  
Thor snickered and bumped Fandral with an elbow, thought that, perhaps, the lot of them had been chased by one of the young maidens so eager to bed him again. But the blond warrior's eyes turned to him, as if to say that it was not he that Volstagg spoke of. And, as the realization dawned upon the prince, there came a sharp yelp through the room, one that he had not heard in quite some time.   
  
"Loki?" he said, hoping that the answer would be otherwise. But the others nodded and Thor ran a hand across his chin. "Loki and–?"  
  
"Oh, who do you think?!" Fandral hissed, shoving Thor until he teetered on the edge of the bench. "She's been following at his heels for the better part of three weeks now! Clinging to his sleeve and refusing to be parted from him!" The warrior sighed and covered his eyes. "In more than just one sense of the word."  
  
Thor bit his lip, hesitated a moment. "So, you mean to tell me that the lot of you refuse to enjoy yourselves because my brother and Sigyn are...?"  
  
He trailed off as the warriors stared at him, as if implying that he'd hit the nail right on the head. Thor sighed, slapped Fandral on the arm and stood.   
  
"An hour," Thor told the men, and ushered for them to leave. The three pairs of eyes widened simultaneously. "I can promise you that, by then, you will have the baths to yourselves."  
  
They said not a word more, simply shrugged and filed around the corner to collect their things. Thor stood with bated breath until he heard the door open and shut again, and promptly marched around the divide to sit and stare until Loki decided to notice him.   
  
Had he not known any better, Thor would have thought that the steam radiating throughout the wide room came from the ravenous pair glued together at the far end of the bath. He smirked and scooted to the edge, tossing the towel away, and allowed himself to drop quietly into the heated water. With a deep breath, Thor sank below the surface and moved slowly, waited until he could feel the water being pushed before leaping up and shouting.   
  
Sigyn screamed, turned and backhanded him across the face. As he fell back, eyes cracked open, Thor wasn't sure as to how Loki was looking at him. Some bizarre cross between utter shock and satisfaction. Thor went down with a heavy splash, surfaced just as quickly to spit water from his mouth, wipe it out of his face and sputter. When his blue eyes opened again, any hint of pleasure that Loki had gained from that short moment was gone, replaced by little more than that omnipresent irritation.   
  
"What is it with you people and your constant interruptions?" he growled, and Thor bit his lip to keep from smiling as Sigyn made a face at him.   
  
The thunderer shrugged, moving back through the water as though Loki would lose sight of him if he got far enough away.   
  
"I don't know what you mean," he said, and Loki's eyes narrowed. Thor tapped the tips of his fingers together. "I had no idea the two of you were so...  _close_."  
  
Loki groaned loudly and nudged the woman, who had decided it best to sink down into the water until only her eyes and nose could be seen. Clearly, she didn't want Thor to be quite as familiar with her anatomy as his brother was. When the two of them glowered at him, the thunderer turned his back and hid his eyes, pretending as though it were a game of hide-and-seek. The joke was ill-received, as Loki promptly struck him in the back of the head with a bar of soap. As soon as Thor heard her climb out, he waited several seconds so that she could don her robes before turning back around.   
  
Thor sank down in the water as Sigyn had, just enough to hide his mouth as she leaned back over the edge of the bath and plastered her lips to Loki's.   
  
The prince snickered under his breath, willing himself not to laugh aloud as he could have sworn she made some quiet comment about having a better use for that silver tongue later on. The look on his brother's face was absolutely priceless.  
  
"That was rude," Loki snorted once she had gone, and Thor searched the bottom of the wide tub to see if he could find the lost bar of soap with his foot. "I don't barge in on you and your fun."  
  
Thor smiled cheerily. "Oh. So you were having  _fun_. That's new." Loki grimaced. "No, you don't interrupt, but you give plenty of lectures afterwards."  
  
The trickster groaned loudly just as Thor pulled himself through the water to sit at his brother's side. He raised a hand and started poking Loki in the neck.   
  
"Stop that," he said, and slapped Thor away, moved off to the right a few feet as if expecting the thunderer to listen.   
  
Thor didn't.  
  
He followed quickly, managed to hook one arm over Loki's head and hold him steady even as he squirmed. "I do hope you intend on wearing something with a collar for the party," Thor told him, and Loki's thrashing immediately ceased. "Otherwise, Mother will have means to raise the dead."  
  
"Thor!"  
  
The prince laughed loudly and leaned forward, threatening to shove his brother to the bottom of the bath.   
  
"Idiot!" Loki barked, and Thor tumbled back, having slipped on the soap that had gotten caught beneath his feet. "Are you trying to kill me?!"  
  
"Oh, hush. You can swim just fine. You won't drown in four feet of bathwater."  
  
His eyes closed as Loki splashed him and moved away again.   
  
Wiping the water from his face, Thor sat still for a moment, surveyed the room a few minutes before turning his gaze back to his brother. It wouldn't do if his friends, or Sigyn, had decided to linger. What was said between the two of them was nobody's business.   
  
"It's tomorrow, isn't it?"   
  
Thor nodded. He hadn't said anything on purpose, having decided that he'd rather have Loki mad at him than walk about with a gloomy, depressing rain cloud on his heels for the rest of the day. That taste pervaded his mouth again, and Thor spat to rid himself of it. It didn't have a name that he was aware of, but, over the years, he'd come to define it as a byproduct of obvious discomfort.   
  
"You don't have to–"  
  
"Don't be stupid." Loki sighed. "Mother would never forgive me if I didn't attend. You're my brother. I  _should_  be there."   
  
"You're a good boy," Thor told him, and Loki smiled slightly.   
  
He hadn't said that in years, since his brother had been much smaller. They hadn't known how to express affection for one another in eloquent words or lengthy monologues, so they had settled for using that which had belonged to so many of the teachers in their young lives. Most notably their mother. She had always told them what good boys they were.   
  
Thor's eyes fell and he moved slowly through the water, lifted a hand that came to rest on his brother's head.   
  
" _I'm_  proud of you," he whispered, but Loki said nothing. Didn't even move. Thor breathed deeply, rested a stubbled cheek atop his hand. He'd say that forever, mean it with everything he had.


	26. Sons Of Privilege

By the time Thor entered, dressed in his best with armor gleaming and teeth bright, the great hall was crowded with guests, many of whom had been brought from the many cities in Asgard by his father for the celebration. Though there were a great number of people present, the room had never looked larger, and the thunderer had never seen so much food in all his days. Three long tables, all laden with goblets and baskets and plates, surrounded in their entirety by the guests, all laughing and smiling and joking with one another. But all that quieted down as the Allfather called their attention to Thor, who blushed a bit out of embarrassment.   
  
The king announced that his son had proven himself innumerable times in battle, that it had been shown that not a man in Asgard, nor in the worlds beyond, could match his strength in the heat of conflict. With the hammer held tightly in his fist, Thor raised it above his head, prompting the room's occupants to cheer and applaud for a time before returning to their own affairs.   
  
"I am proud of you, my son," Odin said to him, hands set about his shoulders, and Thor nodded. "Now, take great care of your responsibilities, and continue to prove yourself."  
  
With those words, the king was swept away by Frigga, a genuine smile upon her face as she looked to Thor, and the two of them disappeared off into the crowd as upbeat dance music began to play. With Mjolnir strapped to his hip, Thor too set off to weave between the groups, smiling and thanking those who congratulated him on sight. Though this was all greatly appreciated, he would have been perfectly content in spending the evening with his friends and brother.   
  
As the thought passed through his mind, Thor felt himself being lifted from the floor, Volstagg's great arms wrapped about his waist as he bellowed with laughter. Had they been alone, Thor would have found means with which to topple the man over, start a scuffle and come out the victor of the wrestling match. But he only smiled, clapped the bearded warrior on the arm as he was set back down again, embraced by the small group with whom he was proud to share his life.  
  
"A great accomplishment," Hogun said with a straight face, and Thor laughed again. "You ought be proud."  
  
The others voiced their agreement and he thanked them, turning right around expecting to see Fandral standing there with a beautiful maiden. But the man was absent and Thor turned his head every which way, standing on his toes in an attempt to find his friend through the bustling crowds and dancing couples at the center of the room. As he dropped back onto the flats of his feet again, Thor felt a hand playfully slap the back of his head.  
  
"Well done, old boy," Fandral told him, and gave him a pearly smile. "You are like to be the most popular bachelor in all of Asgard!"  
  
The others snickered, but Thor's face remained still, peering back over each of their shoulders and wondering just where in the world his brother was. He hadn't said anything that morning, nor in the afternoon, but he had hoped that, though he had said otherwise the night prior, Loki would keep true to his word and show.   
  
A sigh escaped him as a surprised Hogun was quickly tugged towards the dance floor by a young girl, her dark eyes gleaming. The stoic warrior turned his head slowly, mouth still pressed into a thin line as he stared at them, perhaps silently asking what he was meant to do. Volstagg grinned, held fast to Thor as though he were a young woman himself, and the two of them mimed a fabulous dance, stopping only to laugh as the man was pulled hurriedly away from them.   
  
"I wonder how he'll fare," Volstagg said thoughtfully, stroking his beard. "Poor Hogun won't smile for a damn thing these days. Honestly, I believe that that poor girl is better off dancing with the likes of Loki." Thor felt a pang in his chest. "At the very least, he'd charm her far more than the Grim ever could. Make her feel wanted."  
  
Thor didn't laugh, but swallowed that taste that had entered his mouth again, wished it would go away for once.   
  
"He's madness himself, really," Fandral said, elbowing him in the side. The man's eyes darted towards one end of the room. "Your brother."  
  
The thunderer frowned slightly, pushing golden hair away from his forehead. "What do you mean?"  
  
The blond warrior shrugged, the metal of his armor clacking together slightly. "Why, didn't you know? He's here, slinking about in the shadows and trying to go about unseen." He pointed, and Thor's gaze followed the invisible trajectory of his hand. "Last I saw him, he was skulking about behind the curtains."  
  
Not a word was spoken as Thor moved away from his friends, pardoned himself as he bumped against the guests. The thick red curtains parted as the prince slipped between them, wondering how he hadn't thought to look for his brother. It was probably meant to be a game, to see just how much Thor paid attention. As he moved further along behind the great length of fabric, Thor caught sight of a shadow on the wall, heard the heavy sound of metal striking the floor, and rolled his eyes with a smile.   
  
Loki never learned.   
  
Turning the corner, there they were, Loki on his back atop the green cape and Sigyn struggling to rid him of the rest of the armor, the helmet already discarded. Thor leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, making a humored face as his brother's head struck the floor hard and he cursed, the woman's hips shifting violently downward.   
  
"At least you came," Thor said, and Sigyn scrambled to her feet, a dark blush upon her fair cheeks.   
  
The thunderer put on his most serious face, took a few steps forward and leaned over, tugging Loki upright. He looked dazed, and teetered a bit before steadying himself against the wall. The trickster cocked his head to the side, gave Thor a mildly sheepish look. As much as he wanted to, Thor did not smile. It would be much more fun if he held out.   
  
His brother swallowed as Thor's fingers curled around the hand grip of the hammer, tugged it from his hip and firmly laid the head of the weapon against his open palm. Loki's eyes went wide as he backpedaled, a nervous laugh upon his lips.   
  
"You don't understand, Brother," he said, raising his hands and stepping away. "It wasn't my... I... She jumped m–"  
  
Thor growled, surged forward and grabbed Loki by the shoulder, knotted his fingers into the green fabric and pulled. He snarled, struggling not to laugh before leaning in, their foreheads meeting for a split second before Thor broke into a grin, shoved Loki back and watched him stumble. The perplexed look that his brother wore was well worth a bit of extra patience. Even Sigyn didn't seem to understand just what had happened.   
  
Mjolnir was returned to its position at his hip, and Thor bellowed with laughter, bending down to catch his brother's helmet by one of the horns. He tossed the thing to Loki.   
  
"Why in the Nine Realms would I be angry with you?" Thor asked, and Loki's expression changed as he pieced it all together with lightning speed. "This is a  _party_ , Brother! You are expected to have fun!" Thor raised a hand, waved a finger at the two of them. "But not that much fun."  
  
Loki smiled, ran a hand through his hair. "You're an ass," he said, "scaring us like that."  
  
"And you," Thor retorted, "are missing out on all the fun." He spread his arms wide. "Go, dance, socialize, enjoy yourselves!"   
  
"I don't dance," Loki told him curtly. But the look on Sigyn's face insisted otherwise.   
  
"Oh, you don't?" she said, and his brother turned to stare at her. The woman reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear and made a face. "Well, in that case, I suppose I had best go find someone who will."   
  
Loki's jaw dropped and, before he had chance to say a word, Sigyn hurried off and out of sight.   
  
"I hate you," he huffed, and Thor laughed.   
  
"Fear not, Brother," the prince said, and pulled Loki along behind him as they emerged from the hiding place beyond the curtains. "There are plenty of beautiful women who would be more than pleased to have their hearts stolen by a charmer such as yourself."  
  
The trickster's lip curled as he arched a brow. "Charmer? Please, tell me that you are  _not_  comparing me to the likes of Fandral."  
  
"Thor!" His head turned then, eyes darting among the many faces in the crowds until he spotted his mother as she waved him over.   
  
"Get going," he told Loki, and jabbed him with an elbow. "Have fun. And don't let me find you hiding back there again."  
  


**# - # - # - #**

  
  
Honestly, the most satisfying bit of the entire celebration was up on the high ceilings as Loki leaned back in the chair, waving a hand about as the colored animals burst from the tips of the flickering candles, soared about leaving faint trails and sparks behind them as they moved. He smiled to himself as the lion roared, startled an elderly woman into dropping her wine to the floor. After messing around with Sigyn, who now seemed content to ignore him because he refused to dance, Loki supposed that this was the next best thing.   
  
The buzz of the people around him meant nothing, even as they moved behind the back of his seat, occasionally bumping into it as they went, offering hurried apologies. Eventually, Loki grew weary of entertaining himself with the illusions, hopped briskly out of the chair and moved to the window. It still snowed outside, making the celebration appear all the more bright. He rolled his eyes and walked along the edge of the balcony, eventually sitting down so as to slip out of the room and into the white gardens. Better to spend time with dead plants than a multitude of people he cared nothing about.   
  
As he dropped, began to lower himself out the window, someone stopped him, tugged hard on his arm until Loki climbed back up again. He was irritated to find that it was Sif.   
  
"What is it you want?" he demanded, settling for leaning against the column of the archway. "Come to lecture me on my propriety yet again?"  
  
Sif crossed her arms, did not bother to give him an answer as she sat beside him.   
  
"Why is Sigyn dancing with that man?" she said, and Loki groaned.   
  
He peered across the room towards the dance floor, made a face as the woman laughed, seemingly enjoying herself in the arms of a complete and utter stranger. From the look of him, his attire, he was certainly not of the royal city, probably having come with one of the companies from the far side of Asgard. Loki snorted. What with that ridiculous smile on his face, the man looked to be one with a character similar to that of the foolish Fandral. If the bastard made one wrong move, he thought, the prince of lies wouldn't hesitate to rid the palace of the man's presence.   
  
Beside him, the warrior woman smiled wide, raised a hand to her lips as she chuckled.   
  
"And what is this I see?" she said, drawing Loki's eyes to her. "Do I detect a bit of envy in your gaze?"  
  
"Shut up," the prince growled, and wove his fingers together as he hunched over.   
  
But Sif, clearly enjoying his discomfort, would not be silenced. "You think yourself better than him," she pressed on, and Loki tensed as Sigyn laughed, rested her head on the bastard's shoulder. "You despise the idea that your chosen partner is enjoying herself without you. Quite honestly..." She leaned closer, until her breath in his ear sent shudders down his spine.  _"You can't stand it."_  
  
That was enough.   
  
Grinding his teeth, Loki scowled, swept across the room and through the tightly packed groups of people until his hand closed around Sigyn's wrist, pulled her, right in the middle of the dance, away from the man.   
  
"And just what do you think you're doing?!" the stranger demanded, jaw slack and eyes aflame. "Who in the name of Valhalla do you think you are?!"  
  
Loki hated being made spectacle, couldn't stand being caught up in the middle of the ostentatious tradition of wild parties and celebration. He hated all the fuss, would much rather be left to his own devices, left out of the loop, than forced to play his part in the charade that was expected of him by his father and mother. But this, as he had so hurriedly decided, was a completely different matter.   
  
"Hold your tongue," he snapped, and laid a hand against the man's chest as he advanced, shoved him as though he weighed nothing. "And keep your hands off her."  
  
It didn't matter that a great number of the guests were staring, that the music had all but stopped and that the dancers had moved quietly off to the side. Loki didn't care that he looked the part of a spoiled prince. More than once, this woman had sworn herself to him, in more ways than words alone. And, under no circumstance, would he permit any other man to lay hand upon her.   
  
He turned, Sigyn's eyes wide and hovering somewhere between admiration and complete disgust.   
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Keeping his hand on her, Loki sighed, moved to touch her cheek. "You are mine," he told her, and there was a telltale sign of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You'd do well to remember that."  
  
The trickster stumbled forward, bristled as the stranger advanced, shoved him from behind.   
  
"A better question," Loki spat, turning to deftly catch the back of the man's knee with a boot, "would be if  _you_  know who I am?"  
  
"Enough!" Sif shouted, and came to stand between the two, to give the now shaken man a chance to compose himself. Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she caught Loki by the chin the way his mother might have. "Stop this. You are making a scene!"  
  
Sure enough, nearly every eye in the room was upon him. But Loki snarled, pulled back and slapped her hand away.   
  
"And what good are you doing the situation?! None, so far as I can see!" He pushed her back several steps, until she nearly tripped over the man who still sat wide-eyed upon the floor. "What right do you have to lecture me on propriety, when this is your doing to begin with?! We wouldn't be having this damned conversation if you'd just kept your mouth shut!"  
  
There was a stunned silence, the faint echo of a distinct sound as Sif's head turned sharply to one side, her eyes wide.   
  
Loki's jaw dropped, breath caught in his throat,. He cursed inwardly in complete disbelief of what he'd just done. She was sure to have seen that, his mother, and there would no doubt be a tongue lashing waiting for him once the festivities had ended, for he had dared to to the unthinkable, raised his hand to strike a woman. The pounding of heavy footsteps drew near and Loki shut his eyes, face contorted into a heavy frown as Thor, without even a word, threw an arm about his neck and pulled, dragging him all too easily out of the room.


	27. The Devil To Pay

The snow came down in sheets, easily covering the tracks made by Thor's boots as he dragged Loki through the powder. The trickster struggled in the iron grasp, managed to spit out a fair number of vile curses before the thunderer spun quickly, sent him flying to the ground. He hit hard on his knees, felt the impact shake his bones as he growled, moved his eyes to Thor in time to see the god charge forward and seize him by the shoulders. Loki grimaced as he was thrown again, further this time, and ended up toppling backwards down the garden steps.   
  
"What is the matter with you?!" Thor shouted over the howling wind.   
  
Loki said nothing, pushed himself up into a sitting position and pressed a hand to his head. By the time all was said and done, he'd be going to bed with a godawful headache. Assuming, of course, Thor, in all his anger, didn't end up turning his keen mind into the equivalent of a broken egg.  
  
He didn't look at Thor, knew that by ignoring him he was only serving to further anger his brother, propel his temper to even greater heights.   
  
The prince grunted as Thor's boot collided with his chest, kept him pinned to the frozen ground as the thunderer knelt down, shook him and demanded to know why in Asgard he'd do something so damned stupid. Loki stared up at him a moment, did his utmost to look remorseful before lifting a knee to his brother's groin, caused Thor to fall away from him. With the elder prince hissing and scrambling about on the ground, Loki hurried to his feet, took the opportunity to greatly distance himself from Thor, knowing that it would only be a matter of minutes before he was chased like a stag at the heart of a hunt.   
  
He blinked once, grit his teeth as Thor barreled toward him, jumping in a short arch and managing to catch him by the ankle. Loki fell back and smacked his head hard against the ground.   
  
"Answer me!" Thor shouted in his face. "Why would you do that to her?!"  
  
"Is this love, Thor?" the prince of lies retorted, stars still blinking in his vision. The thunderer looked mildly confused. "Is this for Sif's benefit, or for mine?"  
  
"She has nothing to do with this!"  
  
"Doesn't she?! Were it any of the others, you wouldn't react so violently! You wouldn't chase me down like this, see fit to humiliate me in front of–"  
  
"You have done that yourself!" Thor roared. "The moment you chose to let jealousy get the better of you, you had already made yourself the fool!"  
  
What nerve his brother had, lying to his face and trying to turn the tables like this. Did he not know that Sif had been the devil upon his shoulder, whispering in his ear and filling his head with ideas? Had he not seen her pursue him, follow swiftly after as he had sought to remove himself from the ridiculousness of the celebration? How daft Thor was, claiming to love his brother more than he did the others, swearing to protect him though Loki did not wish him to, only to turn in an instant and play at being a disciplinarian. The trickster frowned. Thor was starting to behave an awful lot like their father.   
  
It was just a dance, Thor told him. Nothing to get upset over, and certainly not something that demanded he act out as he had. As if Thor could understand. He couldn't know what it meant to have something, someone, all his own. He couldn't fathom the importance of tying oneself to another, through more than words, than actions, than secrets.   
  
"Don't you dare lecture me! You're not Father! I've seen things that you haven't; things you can't possibly comprehend!" Loki shot back, and knotted his hands in Thor's snow-flecked hair. The thunderer stared, his gaze still hard. "She is  _mine,_  Brother! She–"  
  
"I don't care! I thought you were a better man than that! I thought you were above such repulsive behavior! To strike a woman–"  
  
Loki growled, drew magic from his fingertips and set alight a bursting flame between them, the likes of which that caused Thor to snarl and jump back.  
  
"Then you were wrong! Your judgment is flawed, and you can't see a damn thing that isn't thrown in your face!" The trickster shuddered, got to his knees again, ignoring the chill that whistled in his ear.  _"You are unfit to be king!"_  
  
Thor looked lost, as though he'd just watched the world crumble and die around him. The anger vanished from his face, his hands fell limp at his sides and his eyes appeared broken and wounded, as if everything he'd ever loved had slipped right through his fingers and into the abyss. The prince shook his head.   
  
"Is that what this is about?" he said, and Loki could barely hear him above the storm.  _"Me?_  Our father's throne?"  
  
He thought to say no, to explain that he hadn't meant the words that had come out of his mouth. But Loki found that he couldn't honestly tell his brother that his careless, hypocritical attitude, that their father's kingdom, had nothing to do with this. So he stared blankly at Thor a moment, moved his gaze to the ground and gently shook his head, still in utter disbelief.   
  
This had started with the both of them, hadn't it? From the very first day Odin had led the two of them into the relic chamber, explained to them the purpose of the room, the power that the ancient artifacts within held. That, one day, were they to prove themselves worthy of such gifts, they would receive them. That, once they grew into men, fierce and all-consuming and skilled in the old ways of war, one of them would ascend to his throne, be named king. And Loki had come to realize in the days that passed them by, that none of this had a thing to do with Sif, with the Warriors Three, with their parents, or with anyone else. It had just been the two of them in this arena, right from the start.   
  
And neither one of them could walk out until the other lay in the dirt.   
  
Thor stood bitterly in the snow, the deep red of his cape swirling about in the wind. He sighed and shook his head.   
  
As he turned, Loki could only grimace and shout after him, "Coward!"


	28. Winter Has Come

"There you are."  
  
Thor sucked in a breath, swiped at his eyes and buried his face in his hands yet again. Things were already ruined for the night. Not for himself, for he hadn't particularly cared for socializing with people he didn't know, but for his mother, for his father. It shamed him that things had gotten so out of hand, though it wasn't at all his fault.   
  
He sighed as Frigga came to sit beside him, dusted the snow from the shoulders of his cape and leaned on his arm, her eyes kind and quiet. It was almost certain that the Allfather was outraged by his brother's display, the blatant disrespect for the king, for standard procedure, that Loki had now made public. The thunderer feared his father's temper, and, though he was bitter, angry with his brother, he couldn't help but to worry for him, his head spinning with all manner of punishments that might befall him. This time, Thor knew, he had no hope of quelling Odin's rage, of sparing Loki that which he had coming.   
  
"What has happened?" he said, leaning forward upon his elbows. Frigga's hand moved across the expanse of his wide shoulders, pulled until Thor came and rested upon hers. She was so small, he thought. So much smaller than he had ever known. His blue eyes opened, his face hot and colored from his pacing, his tears. "What is happening to my brother?"  
  
In the recent months, he had seen Loki change, go from being simply mischievous to being angry, just as hot-tempered as Odin himself, stubborn and, at times, completely unbearable. He didn't smile anymore. Not genuinely, at least. Not unless he was pleased with himself or his tricks. Thor was starting to think now that even the smiles he offered to their mother were forced, empty, devoid of any meaning at all. The idea made him feel sick.   
  
The queen remained silent, and it frightened Thor that his mother had no gentle words of wisdom, no answers for the questions that plagued him. Was his brother trying to separate from their group? Had he ever really been one of them? What of their friends? Why did they not say anything, try as Thor did to bring him back? Had they ever wanted Loki to be a part of their unspoken brotherhood?   
  
He thought not, thought himself foolish for not having seen it sooner. They had never been quite so accepting as Thor, so willing to drag his sniveling baby brother into the game with them. Thor had often played at ditching Loki as a boy, but had only meant it as a bit of a joke between brothers. But the others, he feared, had read into his game incorrectly, had thought that by leaving him behind, that was how things were meant to be.   
  
What hope was there to repair this damage? Loki was entirely his own person now, clever, self-sustaining, a genius in subjects that Thor and the others could not hope to master. And he was damn proud of it. Perhaps he had taken on that pride as a way to shield himself, satisfy the need for recognition that he had failed to obtain from his peers as a boy.   
  
Thor wanted to vomit.   
  
"The two of you are grown," his mother finally said, her voice soothing as a hand stroked his hair. "You have both become your own person. Really, Thor, did you think that the two of you would always roam together? That you would never become separate?"  
  
That had never occurred to him, not truly. Thor had always imagined a life with Loki in it, even when their parents were long gone and they were all that was left of the House of Odin. He had always believed that they would stand with one another, do everything together just the way they always had. He had thought that, even when the sound of tiny feet could be heard through the palace halls, the two of them would sit in the great hall and reminisce, laugh at just how innocent and naive they had been at that age.   
  
Now, that fantasy was dashed.   
  
Were he to become king, then what? What would become of his brother, of the friendship that they had nurtured all these years? Would he leave, set off to further fill that brilliant head of his with the vast and infinite amounts of knowledge that lay outside Asgard, across the Nine Realms? And were it the other way around, what would Thor do? Cling to his brother's sleeve, follow at his heels and play protector for the rest of their days?   
  
He groaned loudly. He had not thought any of this through to the end.   
  
It was as their mother had always said. That they were close as brothers could be, but opposites. Thor with the intensity of the sun, and Loki possessing the mysterious allure of the moon. One like the warm seasons, bright and brilliant and happy, and the other with the not-so-subtle bite of winter, practiced and even reserved. They were separate, together, each circling the other from the moment Yggdrasil had written out the stories of their lives.   
  
Thor sighed. He didn't know what to do.


	29. Finding Judas

How serene it was, the gentle nip of winter, the chilled air filtering its way into his lungs. He lay quietly upon the steps in the garden, those that led down to the lakeside, let his fingertips play against the frigidity of the icy surface, let the feeling fill him. Strange that he'd find comfort in the dead of winter, in laying still as the snow fell briskly down about him, clinging to his skin and draining the heat away. But it was as though he did not feel it, could find no reason within himself with which to wish it all away. It was the most satisfying time of year. It made him feel somewhat complete.   
  
The snow crunched softly as she came, cloak draped about her shoulders as she sat on the low wall just a little ways away. Perhaps upon the edge of the fountain, where she always lingered in summer, fingers wishing that the ice would melt and that the brightly colored fish would stick their little heads above the surface as if they wished to play.   
  
"Are you cold?" she said, and Loki did not open his eyes, did not move save to scrape at the ice with his nails.   
  
Satisfied with the darkness within his own head, the prince opened his mouth, breathed deeply the frosted air and whispered, "No."  
  
The world certainly was pretty when draped in the warmth of summer air, the dashing colors that had been brought about by the new life of spring. But he did not crave it in the midst of blizzards as the others did, but dreaded it. Loki detested the thought of lying out in the sun, allowing the harsh rays to burn and irritate his skin, of being forced to keep his curtains shut and hide beneath the covers of his bed until the morning sun was covered by a cloud. He hated lingering indoors, fearful of the hot pockets of air that threatened to render him immobile.   
  
When the falling of the leaves came each autumn, he would feel that spark of light burn through his bones, as if to say, "It comes. It comes." He would become eager, far more excitable than was the norm, find that even the stupid things said by his brother's friends could sometimes turn his stern expression enough to bring about a faint smile. The darkness of the night was the same. Cool air, no sun to hide from, no one awake to see what went on within the shadows, for the world was made up of them. The thin, graying little things that followed at a man's heels, or perhaps led him across the expanse of dark earth. Somehow, Loki found that he loved them.   
  
"You should come inside," Frigga told him, and he felt the graze of her cloak as she leaned over him. "Get some sleep."  
  
Loki shrugged, still refusing to open his eyes. "I'm not tired," he said, and heard her sigh.   
  
She was trying to persuade him, find means with which to pull him into her arms without forcing him. He wasn't like Thor. He wasn't a wounded puppy who craved gentle, physical affection when he mourned. In fact, Loki rarely felt the way he did now, down and without a purpose. Yes, he had often experienced disappointment, anger, an incredible deal of jealousy, but he didn't pout as his brother did. More often than not, he'd stay irritable with someone for an hour or so before the whole thing disappeared into the atmosphere, to burn up among the stars.   
  
Except for some of that envy. Much of that had seemed to accumulate within him recently, and it was steadily driving him mad.   
  
Loki sat up, still kept his eyes closed as he leaned back, let his mother's arms coil around him protectively. They had sat here often, he recalled, stared out across the expanse of water and tried to count the number of tall pines upon the opposite mountain range. At least once, he had managed to number them around seven hundred.   
  
"Your brother worries for you," she said.  
  
He shrugged. "I don't care." Loki was far more concerned with Sigyn, with the punishment his father likely still had in store for him. "What of Father?"  
  
"He is bothered," came the reply, and the prince of lies made a sound of acknowledgment, decided that it was best if he not go indoors for a while. "But he does love you. Now, please, darling, come inside where it's warm."  
  
Loki scoffed. His mother did not lie, but he would prefer to hear those words from the Allfather himself. That would bring the old man down a notch, perhaps humble him a bit. But such was the curse of a throne, of a kingdom. To grow old and bitter and full to the breaking point with heavy pride.   
  
Of course, when he became king, there would be none of that. Loki had determined to become more than twice the man his father was.   
  
"I think," he said quietly, "I'll stay here." Frigga sighed again. "I'd prefer to not put Father out any more than I already have."  
  
The prince frowned, hated thinking upon all the disappointment he'd brought upon the House of Odin, upon his mother. Why, what rumors she must have had to endure during her ventures into the royal city. What lies must have been spoken about him, about their family. And all of them, Loki feared, had something or other to do with him, the wayward prince of Asgard. He didn't conform to the rules as the others did, did not bow in the presence of their king and beg for forgiveness. Rather, he'd stand in open defiance, ensure that all who were present knew of the Allfather's many faults and hypocrisies. That was surely enough to form a great, wide rift between them. Loki on one side, and the rest of them on the other.  
  
"What of Sigyn?" he murmured, almost afraid to know the answer. Loki had not seen her in a few days now. Perhaps she'd decided to go off with that fool Vryaal, or whatever his name was.   
  
"She asks for you," his mother replied.  
  
That was satisfactory, he supposed. Perhaps, when he felt like it, he'd find her, remind her why she was his chosen partner.   
  
"Will you come inside now?"  
  
Loki sighed, eyes opening to drink in the shock of white that drowned out the world. He smiled. This was what he liked to see. The whole of Asgard draped in but a single shade. Pure by day and tainted by night.   
  
The prince of lies leaned his head back, caught his mother's gaze and nodded. "I suppose."  
  
If no one else in Asgard, he did love her.


	30. Days Are Numbered

For the first time in a long while, they all sat at table, though a bit uncomfortably. They had complied for the sake of their mother, who had asked that they all make an effort to correct past foolishness, and thus found themselves bored stiff and silent over a dinner that, Loki at least, didn't care about. In fact, as Thor had observed throughout the whole of the meal, the only thing his brother had done, besides bite the end of his fork and tap the blade of the knife against his place, was down three goblets of ale, all the while looking positively miserable.   
  
Purposely, it seemed the trickster prince avoided their father's hardened gaze. Thor had heard them as he'd passed by the Allfather's study the night before, quarreling over Loki's unseemly behavior at the party, but had said nothing, deciding that, if he really needed it, his brother would come and ask for his help. That, and the thunderer still had no idea as to how to approach his brother now.   
  
However, he had heard, quite by surprise, that Loki had actually manged a coherent apology to Sif, though the story went that he hadn't looked at her and had nearly laughed as he went about it. Even so, his friends had all agreed that it was quite a bit of progress, and had decided not to pursue the matter of the woman's hair any further. Even so, Loki hadn't deigned to partner with a one of them for anything in the past couple of days, had contented himself with sitting on the library balcony above the frozen lake while Thor and the others had taken to shoving each other across the ice.   
  
Thor's eyes moved quickly away as Loki's moved to look at him, a stirring of discontent sharp and evident. He couldn't help feeling strange, as though nothing between them would ever be quite the same again. Still, Thor wouldn't allow their last argument to change anything. Though Loki was sometimes an ass, the God of Thunder wouldn't permit himself to be swallowed by those memories of their slights against one another. Rather, he'd keep true to his promise, do his utmost to find the things in his brother that made him swell with pride. And he would say so, as often as he could.   
  
 _"I'm proud of you."_  
  
Otherwise, he feared, someday soon, they'd come to hate one another. And Thor could not stand the thought of ever going to war with his beloved brother.  
  
"I've had enough," Loki suddenly announced, and shoved his chair from the table, tossing the napkin onto his plate without another word or even a glance to any of them.   
  
Thor heard the sharp intake of breath from the head of the table as his father stirred, set his silverware down and drummed his fingers. He closed his eyes, anticipating another explosive battle between the two of them, but it did not come. When Thor chanced to peek, he saw his father with a stern expression upon his face, met with the equally passive look that had settled upon his brother's. The two stared at one another for a moment before Loki turned on his heel and walked right out of the room, leaving Thor to wonder just what the two of them had said to one another with their eyes.   
  
The God of Thunder waited several minutes before excusing himself as well, not once having touched the slab of meat and gravy that graced his plate. He hurried through the hallways until he made it outside, wound his way around the palace a couple of times so that Loki would not believe that he had followed, and climbed one of the walls that dropped into the gardens. The plants were dusted with a fine white powder, and his brother was nowhere to be found. Not even a footprint. So Thor sighed, eyes widening as an idea struck him, and ran through the white grass until he reached the orchard, caught sight of his brother as he dropped out of one of the bare trees. It would seem that he had been playing lookout, as Sigyn quickly appeared beside him.   
  
Thor couldn't understand. He had thought that Loki had given up on smiling, on being sincere. But watching him, seeing the way his sharp eyes seemed to light up like the stars, the prince couldn't help thinking otherwise. How long had that been going on, he wondered? It seemed as though the woman had just appeared one day, and hadn't vanished since.   
  
He settled down on the ground, ignoring the bite of the cold as it sank through the seat of his trousers, threatened to turn his rump into a thick piece of ice. Thor could only smile, wonder if and when he'd find such joy in Asgard.   
  
Loki's head turned then, their eyes meeting abruptly. Thor held his breath, tried not to look guilty as his brother stared. Instead of that irritated snarl, there came a crooked smile, the sort that the trickster would sport when the thunderer knew he was up to no good and caught him in the midst of stirring up trouble.   
  
Relieved, Thor beamed back, trying to hide the heaviness of his heart.   
  
Their mother was right. Things were certainly changing in Asgard, and the two of them couldn't be together forever.


End file.
